Gone Forever
by Cloud Auditore Fair
Summary: "Come on, Confessor." Her voice dropped somewhat. "Let me stare into those pretty eyes, as bright and dark as death." Can a Mord'Sith, Confessor, Wizard and Seeker save all life from the Keeper's clutches or will turns of fate doom them? But maybe they can do that all on their own. First in the Lost in the Arms of Destiny saga.
1. Waking

**A/N: **So hullo there! This is a sort of introductory chapter, which means deathly amounts of tension between Cara and Kahlan. :D And it only gets better. We're basically starting at season two, for reference, so bear with me for a couple of chapters because then we're veering off course. Technically, this chapter alone veers right off the road.

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><p>"It'd be a shame if you fell flat on your face and cracked your head open on my floor."<p>

Cara shot the woman in the doorway a look and stood anyway. To avoid the appearance of dizziness, she took the few steps to the wall and leaned her shoulder against it, crossing her arms. Green eyes never left the woman. She stood a few inches shorter than Cara, dressed plainly, and had the physique of a hard worker and her black hair came to her shoulders. "Strange. No one's ever brought me to their home to kill them."

The woman smiled humorlessly and rubbed her hands on a towel. "You were injured." She vaguely gestured toward Cara. "And your braid was cut off so you're not welcomed by your 'Sisters.'" She practically spat out the last word.

"Who are you?"

She leaned against the doorframe, mimicking Cara's posture. "You've been here for three days."

Cara's eyes narrowed. "What, no guards to put me in jail?"

The woman turned and walked away unknowingly making the Mord'Sith's fingers twitch in anger. "You should bathe. Lunch will be ready soon."

Cara pushed off the wall and strode after the woman, ignoring the way her vision briefly went black. She found the woman in the kitchen, gathering a few pots. All too comfortable for someone not just with a Mord'Sith, but with _Cara._ A desire to correct that filled her, but she knew if she started, she'd get carried away.

She didn't turn. "I visited the tailor the day I found you and was sure you wouldn't die in your sleep."

The blonde crossed her arms in an attempt not to strangle the woman. "What does that have to do with me?"

"Mord'Sith aren't celebrated in most places. A new set of leather like your uniform should be ready by midday but it won't draw more attention than you already do." She chuckled. "The food should be done by the time I get back."

A blonde eyebrow rose. "And what do you get out of this?"

The woman turned and, hands on hips, glared at Cara. She actually glared. "You angered some Mord'Sith into leaving you for death so I'm hoping you'll kill them. Then they'll stop kidnapping our daughters." Her expression hardened, if it were possible, as she looked to her left, seeing what wasn't there. "The day I found you, I was looking for my friend's daughter. She's practically my own. Those damned Mord'Sith must've come after they were done with you. They took at least ten girls." The woman glared at Cara once more. "If you're going to kill me, do it."

The blonde walked away to explore the house and called over her shoulder, "You're not worth my time." But someone else was. Someone whose blood would run like rivers, who would beg her for death. And she wouldn't give it for a while. She had all the time in the world.

"Here we are," the woman said cheerfully some time later. She set out bowls and eyed Cara much like a mother does her daughter. "It suits you."

Cara merely readjusted a bit of leather and sat. Still watching the woman, she said rather plainly, "You kept the color." But the cut was different, dipping toward her breasts and of a freer design.

"If you don't like it, go to a tailor yourself." She sat across the table from Cara. They sat in silence while the soup steamed. Finally, the woman asked, "Are you?"

Cara didn't make a noise, didn't look up, just swirled the soup around.

She ate a spoonful of soup. "It's not poisonous, so eat." She didn't seem the least bit bothered that Cara never took her eyes off her, even as she began to eat the soup herself. At this point, the woman acted as if she and Cara were friends, hardly minding her. It only assured Cara that the woman lacked proper sense. "Are you going after them?"

"The last thing they'll know is my agiel." Well, after she claimed one.

She raised a tankard. "Then this is to you." The Mord'Sith stared at her a moment and didn't smile, but she took a sip from her own tankard. "My name's Icela."

Cara continued to eat her soup. Icela did the same, not pursuing Cara's name. Finally, some kind of peace. The blonde thought she'd have to beat the woman into silence for a while. She could be useful, though. In bed. Cara smirked.

When they finished, Icela cleared the table and asked, "I don't believe you need directions to the temple?"

The blonde simply walked out the house. Green eyes sighted the mountain she noticed earlier and followed the path leading to a small town. She clenched and unclenched a fist as she walked, preferring to go straight instead of detour around the town, despite the feelings of its inhabitants. Perhaps it would've been wiser to go around, but in reality, anything with sense wouldn't bother her. As for things without sense, well, she'd kill them.

"We have to help them, Richard."

Cara was striding down a road on the edge of town, when she heard the name. Upon seeing him, she veered her way to the entrance of a shop and ignored the looks she got as she focused on the two. A Confessor and Richard, the Seeker. The reason Darken Rahl was dead. The reason her Sisters left her for dead. Beside him stood the leader of a D'Haran squad. Cara's already boiling blood just about burst in her veins when some man came at her, cursing her very existence. She simply dodged the rather pathetic swing and shoved him into the shop, hissing for him to be quiet.

"Kahlan, we don't know where the temple is. Even if we follow them, they're three days ahead of us and we'd be at their front door."

The Confessor, Kahlan, put her hands on her hips and looked around as if hoping for patience. "The Mord'Sith kidnapped their daughters, Richard. You know what's going to happen."

Cara tilted her head a bit as a cold smile started to come over her face. There stood opportunity itself, in the form of two people she should consider enemies and kill mercilessly. But Cara had always seen beyond the immediate.

Richard sighed and rubbed his temple. "I'm not saying we shouldn't help, I just want a plan. Otherwise we'll just be throwing away lives."

"My Lord, we'll follow you to the Underworld," intoned the squad leader, prompting a roll of Cara's eyes.

"We won't waste lives, though."

Really, they were being ridiculous and wasting time. Cara's time. With her mind made up, the blonde strode toward them. The leader moved between her and Richard, drawing his weapon as Kahlan did the same. Cara, however, merely stopped a short distance away and crossed her arms.

"Mord'Sith!"

Cara eyed the obviously very observant man with disdain. But she didn't get to think on it long because the Confessor moved, purpose lacing her small but proud steps, looking every inch a queen about to give judgment. "A soon to be dead Mord'Sith."

Richard rushed forward, catching Kahlan's arm. He dropped it when she looked at him, stepping back, but managed to keep his voice strong. "This is Cara, the one who helped me defeat Rahl."

Kahlan focused her cold stare on Richard a moment longer and Cara didn't miss the fact that he averted his eyes. Then her gaze fell on Cara. "Are you expecting the Mother Confessor to trust a Mord'Sith?"

"No, I'm asking you to trust me."

Blue eyes held Cara's. "If you so much as twitch, I will kill you."

Cara, unimpressed, raised an eyebrow. "You're assuming you can touch me, Confessor."

"I can touch you whenever I please."

"If it pleases me."

Kahlan's head tilted, her brow furrowed slightly, and her lips parted as if she couldn't find the words to capture whatever she wanted to convey, but Richard's voice cut the silence. "Help us get into the temple?"

Cara smirked, ignoring the look the Confessor gave her. "Only if you help me kill them all."

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><p><strong>AN: **Jeez, Cara, you weren't there for five minutes and had Kahlan speechless.


	2. A Heart of Stone

Kahlan casted a dark look in the Mord'Sith's direction. In the direction of the epitome of everything she stood against. The woman had the nerve to ride beside her, holding herself upright in complete pride. Kahlan almost smirked at the irony of it, of the still somewhat fresh wound on her head from her "Sisters." Her leathers were different from that of a Mord'Sith but it only made her more of a threat. She held no allegiance. Kahlan didn't know if it was better or worse than holding loyalty for Darken Rahl. If only she knew were the Mord'Sith stood. As if it weren't bad enough the woman was a Mord'Sith, but one of her own will and ambitions, her endgame unknown.

"See something you like?" Cara's head didn't turn an inch.

"I was admiring the style of your hair," Kahlan said all too sweetly.

To Kahlan's surprise, Cara turned her head just enough to meet her eyes and smirked. "Unlike you, I have more to offer Lord Rahl than pretty hair." Effectively dismissing Kahlan, she faced the path once more and urged her horse to go faster.

Icy eyes narrowed as Kahlan watched the Mord'Sith's form. "Infuriating woman," she ground out through her teeth, clenching the reins of her horse. Thankfully, when she caught up, she kept herself in check, not looking anywhere but forward. They rode in heavy silence.

A slight wind teased her blonde hair as she drew back the arrow. It sailed quickly, burying itself into a patrolling Mord'Sith's neck. As her knees buckled, the dead Mord'Sith's companion discovered an arrow protruding from her own neck.

With a slight curve of her lips, Cara turned to her own companion. "You were a bit late, Confessor."

The slight narrow of Kahlan's eyes only served to increase Cara's satisfaction. "Mother Confessor," she corrected.

Cara simply mounted her horse and replied, with a mocking amount of false sincerity, "My mistake."

"Let's just get this over with."

Not waiting on Kahlan, she urged her horse forward. "Agreed."

Kahlan gave herself a moment before going after her. Otherwise, she might've killed the woman. "If you try to cross us-"

"You're no good to me dead. I'll have nothing to do with any of you after this."

"Are you always this rude?"

"Are you always capable of destroying Lord Rahl?"

Kahlan's indignant expression danced with anger. "I would never destroy Richard!"

"Perhaps, but your powers would."

Cara couldn't help but notice that Kahlan's knuckles turned white from gripping the reins of her horse so hard. "My powers would destroy you first."

The Mord'Sith turned on her horse to face the other woman more fully. With a wicked smile, Cara gestured to her neck as she leaned toward her companion and whispered, "Then confess me."

Kahlan's eyes burned. One of her hands flew to the blonde's neck. Mocking green eyes stared into infuriated blue ones. After a few moments of intense silence, Cara raised a gloved hand and with it, pressed Kahlan's hand much more firmly to her own throat. "Come on, Confessor." Her voice dropped somewhat. "Let me stare into those pretty eyes, as bright and dark as death."

Kahlan couldn't help but wonder if the Mord'Sith lost her mind, even as she tried to pull away her own hand. Not only did pin it to her throat, but she wore an odd expression. Head tilted at a slight angle, her brow was lightly furrowed and her green eyes were searching, almost… soft, like they'd shed a small amount of ice. What they searched for, Kahlan didn't know. However, as quickly as the sudden change came over Cara, it left.

"Coward," she spat. Eyes hard, she all but wrenched Kahlan's hand from her throat and, without another glance, rode off once more.

Mouth somewhat open, Kahlan stared after the odd Mord'Sith. She blinked a few times and her jaw worked before she produced sound, giving a weak plea to the Creator. She'd seen a glimpse of something in those eyes, something she couldn't place but knew to be something Mord'Sith shouldn't have, didn't have. That in itself shook her, provoked questions she didn't have the words for, didn't know the meaning of, questions whose answers she couldn't begin to guess at. With a heavy sigh and a shake of her head, Kahlan caught up to Cara. For all appearances, she seemed her normal, unfeeling self and Kahlan would be the last to question what happened. She wasn't sure she wanted to know. Besides, her concern was her Seeker, not a vengeful Mord'Sith.

"Ready, Confessor?" Her voice spoke of challenge.

"The sooner this is over, the sooner the Seeker and I can go on without you."

"Sounds about right," Cara replied smoothly as she shot an arrow into the air, giving Richard and the squad leader the signal.

Kahlan turned to her companion. "Remember that the girls-"

"Are not my concern," finished Cara. "Let's move."

Again left behind by the Mord'Sith, Kahlan gave an irritated sigh, though it was more of a huff, and went after her. To her surprise, the Mord'Sith was outside the secret opening of the mountain, waiting. If it'd been up to Kahlan to find it on her own, they would've been doomed. It was tucked away in the rock and looked like the other gouges and patterns in the surface. She looked to where Cara gestured and tied her horse with the other before joining Cara and examining her. She seemed composed but ready to go. Ready to kill. It provoked a noise of disgust from Kahlan.

"Is there a problem, Confessor?" Cara still faced away from her, into the opening.

"Not for long. Shall we then?"

Still not looking at Kahlan, the Mord'Sith gave an overly polite gesture toward the opening in the cave. "After you." Kahlan didn't move so Cara turned to give a sadistic smile. "Suit yourself."

Kahlan watched her slip into the opening. "This day is just getting longer." With yet another shake of her head, she followed the other woman through the cramped passage.

As she again entertained the thought that the Mord'Sith might be leading her into a trap, Kahlan felt surprised to find a gloved hand extended to her. She looked up into green eyes almost hidden in darkness and set her jaw, taking the offered assistance. Once she got onto the ledge, Cara dropped her hand and turned, but Kahlan gripped her arm, demanding her attention, and shot her hand to the woman's neck. They stared, Mother Confessor and Mord'Sith, and communicated in a few, tense heartbeats more understanding than either of them had ever known.

_I'm watching you._

_Enjoy the show._

She held the Confessor's eyes even as she pulled the woman's hand from her throat. They stared a moment longer, but then green eyes broke away as she turned, going deeper into the passage, her companion following in silence. There wasn't anything left to be said. In a short time, Cara sidestepped and crouched, yanking Kahlan down with her.

Kahlan bit back her natural responses, both verbal and physical, and breathed in deeply. Blue eyes followed the direction of her companion's finger and spotted the children, surrounded by about a number of Mord'Sith. "I hope you're better this time around," Kahlan whispered.

Cara hissed, "They caught me by surprise last time." She moved closer to their mutual enemies, keeping to the shadows.

Kahlan opened her mouth to point out she meant the proud woman no offense, but the realization of what she almost said made her stop. She sent a silent prayer to the Creator and moved to follow Cara's lead, but the Mord'Sith suddenly started yelling about intruders and the scene quickly fell into chaos. Girls cried, Mord'Sith yelled, and the sounds of battle echoed throughout the cave.

Kahlan heard Cara whisper, "Now."

A shadow of her companion moved in the edge of her vision. Drawing her twin daggers, she ran at the closest Mord'Sith and managed to catch her by surprise. A punch with two strikes to follow through felled the Mord'Sith. Adrenaline sent Kahlan's senses into overdrive. She instructed the girls to move, searching for a new target, but, it seemed all of the Mord'Sith that didn't run off to fight Richard and his troops were focused on her. There was no sign of Cara.

Just as she was about to curse the woman to the Underworld, Cara spoke from the darkness. Kahlan felt a chill shoot down her spine and nearly pitied the objects of Cara's vengeance. "Did you all miss me?"

Almost as if on cue, the Mord'Sith faced Cara, poised to fight. Kahlan allowed herself to wonder how the woman got behind them undetected for a moment too long before jumping back into action. Her target wasn't as unwary as the others and met her head on. Focused on her opponent, Kahlan couldn't pay much attention to Cara, but she could hear the whine of agiels all too well. In fact, one caught her in the side and in hot fury, she plunged a dagger into the offending woman's heart.

The children only whimpered now. Another Mord'Sith fell to Kahlan. As she turned, an agiel caught her in the side, in the same place as the other, and she dropped to a knee, unable to catch her breath. Just as her vision started to go dark, there was a loud smack and the whine of the agiel was silenced. In fact, all she could hear was silence, aside from the pounding in her head. A gloved hand entered her vision and she grasped it with both hands.

"Don't die, Confessor." Cara pulled Kahlan to her feet and bent to pick up her fallen daggers.

Kahlan tried to speak but the world tilted and she found herself being held up by a strong pair of hands almost immediately after the clatter of her daggers hitting the ground once more. Or before. She wasn't sure. "I'm fine," she said through clenched teeth.

"Of course you are." She tried to object when Cara shifted, but failed. Instead, she found that the woman had an arm around her waist and held the other over her shoulder, allowing Kahlan to use her for support. "You're no good to anyone if you die from such a small wound."

Her mind felt foggy, but she couldn't think of just cause to antagonize the reason she could still breathe, so simply breathed, "The girls."

Kahlan struggled to move her feet and barely kept up with Cara's pace. She heard the woman's commanding voice call out, "Move, children."

They made no move and Kahlan could practically hear Cara open her mouth to probably threaten them into moving, but a voice called out to them,  
>"Kahlan?"<p>

"We're here, Richard."

Cara halted their forward motion and turned toward the girls slightly. "Does one of you live with Icela?"

A girl took a step forward and despite the trembling of her body, she stood tall as she looked Cara in the eyes. "I do."

Kahlan heard Cara laugh, but it wasn't a happy laugh. There was almost a mocking air to it but it had just a touch of admiration or respect, at least, that's what she thought. "Your name?"

"Who wants to know?"

"The woman responsible for your life."

The girl glared at Cara a little while longer before she gave a slight nod. "Then I'm the girl you're responsible for."

"Then come along." Without waiting for a response, Cara checked her hold on Kahlan and moved toward the exit.

Barely keeping up, Kahlan ground out, "So is there a heart in there?"

"Kahlan, are you there," Richard called.

Cara muttered, "Of stone."

"Only a bit further, Richard," Kahlan responded. Lower, so that only Cara could hear, she whispered, "Well, we are looking for the Stone of Tears."

"I'll pretend you didn't say that, delusional Confessor." She kept her voice just as low.

"You could have let me die."

Cara stiffened and suddenly called out, "Seeker, your Confessor could use some help." Her pace quickened, practically dragging Kahlan, and she hissed, "I want the pleasure of killing you myself."

Before she could reply, Richard finally appeared and rushed to Kahlan's aid. She gave assurances that she was alright but her eyes searched for the Mord'Sith that had shoved her into Richard's arms. Senses much clearer than they were a bit earlier, Kahlan spotted the woman. Her hands rested on her hips as she conversed with the girl she spoke with earlier.

Kahlan could've slapped herself. She'd said things she shouldn't to the woman and now Cara was taking interest in a girl for a reason she couldn't begin to guess. Kahlan shook her head slightly and mentally corrected herself, _Mord'Sith._

"Then what's wrong?"

Kahlan blinked and stared at Richard. It took her a moment to realize that he had been talking to her when she shook her head. "Oh, no, I'm alright, Richard," she assured, offering him a small smile that didn't quite reach her eyes.

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><p><strong>AN: **Yay for teamwork! Poor Kahlan can't catch a break...


	3. Suspicions

**A/N: **Everyone's just so wonderful, aren't they?

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><p>She sat upright in her saddle despite the pain in her side. Why her patience was so short with Richard proved a mystery to her, but she attributed at least part of it to him acting as if she couldn't handle a lot of things. Some of it was sweet and appropriate, but a lot of it nagged at her. In the beginning, she'd pushed the feeling to the side. She'd never been helpless, but no one had ever opened up to her like Richard had. Sometimes she caught the fear in him, fear of her, but it wasn't like anyone else's. But the nagging feeling persisted, festered inside of her like an agitated wound. She was the Mother Confessor, a queen in her own right. A queen well-versed in the ways of battle, no less. His constant rushing to her for fear of her well-being had long lost its charm. If the Mother Confessor wanted such attention, she could reach out and touch someone. That's all she had to do. A simple touch. But she always tried breaking those she confessed from that behavior, so why would she want it from Richard?<p>

She exhaled slowly, pushing the matter from her mind. She had more pressing concerns. Blue eyes trained themselves on a particular person. Someone that made her heart beat faster in their presence and she couldn't help but seek them out. She just couldn't get the Mord'Sith off her mind, couldn't trust her. And it just didn't make sense to the Confessor that the Mord'Sith would voluntarily ride with the girl and vice versa. Neither did the way she seemed somewhat protective of her.

Someone tapped Kahlan's shoulder. "What," she snapped before whipping her head around.

Richard met her angry expression with one of hurt surprise. "I was only trying to see if you were alright," he said softly.

Her face and voice softened. "I'm sorry, Richard." She heard a quiet yet distinctly disgusted noise from Cara's direction. Kahlan's eyes flicked to her direction but she continued talking to Richard. "It's just that I'm still in pain."

"We can stop to rest if you need."

Kahlan knew Cara was listening. "I'm the Mother Confessor. I can take much more."

Cara unknowingly proved Kahlan right by saying to the girl, "You can only share your pain with certain people."

Richard was talking again but Kahlan only registered his words toward the end of his sentence. When he finished, she forced a smile and replied, "I appreciate everything, Richard, but I'm very tired and would simply like peace." The way Richard looked like a lost puppy as he maneuvered his horse a bit farther away from hers poked at her conscience, but she brushed it off. She wasn't fragile. She closed her eyes in hopes of calming her hot blood. Cara's voice drifted over.

"I'd bet my agiels that she doesn't know what he said."

Choosing not to say anything, since lying went against her nature if it could be helped, Kahlan returned to her musings of the child and her odd protector.

"I can't use them and I'd lose."

Upon hearing Cara's chuckle, Kahlan's eyes snapped open. The girl was smart, strong and amused the Mord'Sith. Kahlan again found herself questioning the Mord'Sith's intentions. Making a noise, her horse shook its head when she pulled too hard on the reins.

Soldiers dismounted to water their horses and do a headcount of the children as well as take a break. A bloody battleground covered in bodies wasn't exactly the place to check the well-being of terrified children. Though the sun hung at its zenith, clouds prevented what would've otherwise been an even hotter day for the tired group. Last to dismount, Kahlan searched the crowd for an odd pair. It didn't take too long, considering they were given a wide berth. The Mord'Sith stood against a tree, arms crossed as she watched the girl. There wasn't an exchange of words, but they appeared to have some sort of understanding.

Green eyes flicked up to Kahlan for a moment as she approached, but Cara only addressed the girl. "I believe the Confessor would like to ask if I'm holding you captive."

The girl sat, eyeing Kahlan.

Taken aback, she blinked before regaining her composure. A warm smile graced Kahlan's face as she knelt in front of the girl. "What's your name?"

"Girl that she's responsible for." She nodded in Cara's direction, earning a snort from the woman.

She sent a quick prayer to the Creator for understanding and patience. "Are you alright?"

"Yes."

When it became clear nothing would be achieved, Kahlan straightened. "We'll be riding out soon." The only response was a shrug from the blonde.  
>Riding proved to only worsen her mood. Thankfully, Richard kept a small distance away, but he kept peeking in her direction and she tried not to notice. Kahlan settled for trying to focus solely on her horse after giving up on figuring out Cara's relationship with the girl. They couldn't just ride off and the party was almost at the town so it didn't matter. She caught Richard looking at her. She definitely had enough on her mind without the aid of the Mord'Sith.<p>

A loud cheer rang through the air when members of the town spotted them. Fathers and mothers ran toward them as children yelled for their parents. Kahlan smiled at the display, but her brow furrowed at the sight of Cara walking with the girl by her side toward the town. The chaos prevented the Confessor from navigating her horse so she dismounted swiftly, weaving her way through the crowd. Kahlan stopped in her tracks. The last thing she expected was to find Cara leaning against a building while the girl hugged a dark-haired woman.

"You're welcome, Mother Confessor," the woman said when she noticed her.

Kahlan blinked a moment, thrown off by the situation. The woman was bold but respectful. A strong woman indeed. "And whom am I thanking?"

"Icela." She nodded to Cara. "And her."

When blue eyes turned on her, Cara shrugged indifferently. Her gaze returned to Icela, waiting.

"I patched her up and sent her your way, though I didn't know you were here, Mother Confessor," she chuckled, hugging the girl once more.

"Then I thank you not just for myself, but on behalf of the entire town." Icela nodded and made to leave but Kahlan remembered something. "What's her name?"

Icela squeezed the girl's shoulder. "Made a nuisance of yourself, did you?"

"A little." When the woman looked at her pointedly, the girl had the decency to give an apologetic smile, even if she didn't wholly mean it. "Neyla."

Kahlan felt herself smile. "Well it was nice to meet you, Neyla."

"Thank you, Mother Confessor," she said politely.

Icela thanked Kahlan again and wandered away. Somewhere in the distance, Neyla called to Cara, "Don't lose your agiels."

Blue eyes wandered to Cara's form, discovering two agiels attached to her instead of one. To her irritation, the Mord'Sith smirked in her direction.

"You must've been too busy dying from your small wound to notice when I _acquired_ these agiels." A frown crossed her face. "Too bad I didn't get to kill her with it."

"Excuse me?"

"A certain Mord'Sith fled the cave while I saved you," she growled. "This is hers and I intend to kill her with it."

Kahlan's eyes narrowed. "You helped save the children." She closed the distance between them, feeling her power dance inside of her at the sight of Cara's returning smirk. The damned, knowing smirk, even as Kahlan gripped her neck. "Otherwise, you would be in pain like you've never known. So I'll allow you to go. This time."

"Allow?" She gave an arrogant laugh. "You're alive because I _allowed_ it." Cara slapped her hand away, rather forcefully given Kahlan's grip, and walked off to her horse, calling over her shoulder, "I'll be off, just as the Confessor allows. Oh and Confessor?"

Unable to say anything lest she speak her mind, she just stood there. If she spoke her mind, her control might slip and her power was eager, pressing against its confines. She had to hold onto it, she was too close to innocents. Innocents she wouldn't take notice of. Finally, blue eyes found green.

"I'm pain's mistress, Confessor."

A fist formed at her side as she all but yelled, "Mother Confessor." The Mord'Sith's form on her horse soon disappeared, but she stared after the empty space, focused on the rage that filled her, focused on settling the excited power within. Leaves crunched off to her left and she whipped around, hand moving of its own accord.

Richard halted and swallowed with effort, trying not to focus on the near-death grip on his neck. "It's… it's just me."

Disappointment seeped into her as she regarded him, but something called to her. She cocked her head, trying to discern it for a moment before realizing what she was doing. "Sorry," she muttered as she relinquished her hold and stepped away.

"Staying on your toes," he joked halfheartedly, clearing his throat. When Kahlan made no reply, he looked around for the first time. His tone became soft, serious. "Cara upset you?"

Kahlan stared at him, eyes narrowed slightly. "I am the Mother Confessor, _of course_ a Mord'Sith upset me. Did you think we'd just be friends, Richard?"

He shifted. Then, he stepped close to her, embracing her despite her cold posture. "I didn't mean that." At her halfhearted return of the hug, Richard pulled back to look at her. "She's gone now and the children are safe." He squeezed her shoulders gently. "We've done a great thing today."

A forced smile came to her face. "You're right, Richard. Let's go."

They returned to their horses and the wall between them was gone, largely out of Kahlan's effort and the fact she ignored the desperate feel of his cheer. She'd seen that fear in him again, blatant and momentarily stunning him, but he'd pushed past it. For the most part. He still looked at her as if she might will the sky to rain fire. Kahlan couldn't blame him. That thing that called to her, she had identified it out as they rode. Her power wanted to rush out and prove itself, prove its owner's worth. But, was she its owner, or did it own her? Kahlan shook herself, she was being ridiculous. So she thought of more practical things and one day, she'd make sure there was one less blonde Mord'Sith. With forced smiles and laughs, Kahlan made light conversation with Richard during their ride.

"Do you think Zedd's already at the village?"

An affectionate smile accompanied Richard's laugh, but neither of them fully reached his eyes. "He's probably eating everything they have by now."

The ghost of a smile crossed Kahlan's face at the thought. "He really can't pass up a good meal."

"He can't pass up a bad meal," Richard joked.

A genuine laugh escaped Kahlan. "How else to perform such great magics?" She smiled in the silence, looking to the sky. Apparently, Richard's gaze followed hers.

"We should make camp soon."

"We should have stayed at the town for the night," she corrected with a raised eyebrow.

Richard shrugged sheepishly. "I didn't want the attention and I worry about Zedd."

"Ah, silence in place of a speech about him not being a frail old man," she said, causing her companion to grin.

"That's our wizard."

In much higher spirits than the previous week, Kahlan smiled when the village became visible. To her right, Richard mumbled something about wanting a good meal. She shook her head. "You're just like your grandfather."

Talk turned to their favorite wizard as the approached the village, making the time pass easily. The pair dismounted, stretched and looked around. Instead of being a thriving village of friendly people like it was a few months ago, it seemed off. The people were still there, but there haunted looks plagued them and the sparse cheer seemed forced, bitter.

Richard shrugged when Kahlan looked to him and the two wandered into a nearby store. Silence filled the room, bringing back the nagging feeling that bothered Kahlan last week. She watched as her companion cheerily greeted the shopkeeper, getting a hardly polite hello in return. Kahlan noted the sound return to the room slowly and jumped when Richard touched her arm.

"He saw a 'hungry, frail man' leave the tavern this morning, heading east of here."

Blue eyes swept over the village as they walked back to their horses. "There is something _wrong_ here, Richard."

He looked troubled but determined. "I know. Maybe Zedd can help us figure it out when we find him. I don't like not having our wizard—it leaves us weaker."  
>Kahlan gripped the reins, urging her horse after Richard. "Why would Zedd leave this place for the forest?"<p>

"I'm sure he had his reasons." He sounded as if the words were to convince himself more than her.

Being faced with the suspicious nature of the village brought all of Kahlan's worries to the surface, but there wasn't much she could do about any of it. With a sigh and no other choice, she kept her horse in pace with Richard's.


	4. Bloody Mistakes

**A/N: **Hullo! This update took a bit longer than I wanted, but Cara was a bit of a bitch to me at one point and I was also trying to work on my technique/style/execution whatever. I hope it went well. If not, let me know. Enjoy! (Hopefully.) Oh and length! I've been wanting to work on chapter length.

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><p>Nothing. There wasn't a hint of the Mord'Sith that fled from the cave. A week and still <em>nothing<em>. Cara growled as she stared into the fire. As her thoughts turned, her hand found the second agiel. The more she thought about it, the more her blood boiled. Its owner disappeared almost completely. Finally, her thoughts cleared enough for her to register the pain from the agiel. She released it, casting her gaze east.

The moon lit the night enough that she could see the village she spotted earlier. Tomorrow she'd look around, see if her prey passed through. It'd draw less attention if Cara went now, but something was off about the place. A number of people left as she arrived, loosely following a few men, one of which was rather tall. They didn't seem happy about it so she decided to stay far enough not to be noticed but close enough to observe. Her money was on slavers. Currently, most of the settlement was asleep, but one building was lit up. It was odd and fueling her suspicions, but not her concern. "Just another hunt," she murmured, a smirk forming as she laid back.

A few leagues away, a Mord'Sith paced uneasily, aware that she crossed a formidable woman. A woman that wanted her blood. She rubbed her forehead and muttered curses. The old man sitting on the ground glared, but she didn't notice. Eventually, she stalked outside the cave and stared at the sky. Murmured complaints emanated from within, but she ignored them. He wasn't going anywhere.

She touched a hand to her new agiel, thinking of the one taken from her. They were tools, but as a Mord'Sith, she felt a special bond with her own. A personal instrument of pain. Of death. Of power. At the thought, a rare fear filled her. Something told her the bond would be broken.

And something told her that bond would break as her own agiel ended her life.

* * *

><p>Dawn offered nothing new to Cara. There weren't any more odd happenings in the village that she could see. She cleaned up her camp mechanically, listening for any sounds to alert her to unwanted guests. The Mord'Sith kind of wanted to kill someone to make her morning better, but it didn't seem as if the blonde would be that lucky. An irritated sigh escaped Cara as she walked toward the village, through the forest rather than down the main path. If she really thought about it and accepted the fact that humans had feelings, maybe she would've acknowledged that she was utterly alone in the world instead of unnecessarily shoving branches that weren't even in her way, focused solely on the woman that she blamed for having everything taken away from her.<p>

Upon nearing the village, Cara slowed, hard eyes sweeping over the area. A few hardy looking men walked around as if they owned the village, prompting a smirk from the woman- they could be entertaining. She always enjoyed instilling total fear in someone. Remembering business came before pleasure, her expression slipped into indifference and Cara strode into the village, looking as if _she_ owned the place instead of the men. Looks shot her way, but she paid them no attention, quickly undermining their sense of importance. They eyed each other, waiting for someone to do something, but no one did. Each of them had the same concern, if this Mord'Sith was the one they were looking for.

A gradual silence fell when Cara entered the tavern. Her glare swept over the occupants, challenging them, and though a few people twitched as if to draw weapons, they didn't answer her challenge. The silence became hushed talk as everyone warily returned to their business. Satisfied, she stepped up to the barkeeper and tilted her head when he didn't pay her any attention.

The sound of glass shattering drew a few looks while Cara gripped the barkeeper's shirt, demanding his undivided attention. "I'm looking for someone that would capture everyone's attention, and you're going to tell me if you've seen her."

He held onto the counter for dear life, eyes wide, afraid to look away from the Mord'Sith. When his mouth moved without producing sound, the hand clenching his shirt gave him a firm shake. "Commanding woman, dark hair, short temper, in need of supplies?"

Heat flared in her heart, excited to continue the hunt. "Where did she go?"

"North," he sputtered, knocking over mugs as Cara shoved him away.

She strode north as soon as she exited the building, her brow furrowed. A hand rested on her personal agiel. Most of the men in the tavern were armed and the few that weren't looked horrified, more so than most. There was something deeply amiss with this village, more than average slavers. They had encampments; they didn't take over entire settlements unless someone powerful was backing them. Cara didn't care to meet that someone, she just wanted to feel the life fade from the woman that crossed her and the thought of that vengeance made her walk faster. Finally noticing the looks she was getting, her hand slipped off the agiel and she checked her pace. Without any allies in unknown, dangerous territory, she could not appear weak and wouldn't stand for someone to interpret her eagerness as fear.

Ease would've flooded many as they exited the town, but not Cara. The forest held unseen dangers, both living and inanimate. She treaded lightly, listening in case someone wanted to say hello. A hand twitched to an agiel, convinced she heard something, but there was nothing. Cara's mind created the noises, feeding her desire to hunt. When it happened for the third time, she stopped with a growl, taking in her surroundings to ward off her imagination.

However, it was but a moment later that she huffed and stormed off, more aggravated than before. "What foolishness," Cara muttered, less aware than before. Stillness and peace didn't sit well with her. And strangling the life out of someone was very appealing at the moment. A growl escaped her when it registered that she was storming through the forest and eased her step. However, there was a crunch of a stick after Cara slowed. Her brows drew together, making sure her hands didn't twitch to her agiels, but she otherwise kept walking. Whoever was following her wasn't out to kill her, at least not yet, and they were very good at trailing her. Focused, Cara could hear the footfalls of two people, minimum. Another growl escaped her. She should've been paying attention.

It didn't matter now. Cara kept her relaxed but irritated gait to ward off suspicion as she searched for an advantage. A little ways off, around a slight bend, was a cluster of large rocks under an outcropping that she wouldn't mind getting to; it held a better advantage if she stumbled across her prey. Mind made up, Cara altered her course slightly so the collection of fallen rocks seemed like her original destination. What bothered the Mord'Sith most was the fact she hadn't been attacked yet- she'd keep one of them alive long enough to answer her questions.

Cara increased her pace, turning the bend, and made a sharp right, doubling back into the tree line. The action granted her the first view of her pursuers. They were both male and of a light build without much armor, one with a mace and the other with a sword at his hip. Clearing the tree line, the pair looked around, drawing their weapons. The one with the sword, apparently in charge, smacked the other's head and pointed left of the rock formation. He didn't seem to like the idea and a heated argument took place in whispers.

The leader would be less likely to give information and the other probably wasn't trusted with anything worth knowing. A smirk crossed Cara's face as he smacked his subordinate once more. Grumbling, the man finally obeyed as the leader went right.

Thankfully, he remained light of foot and proved cautious, giving the Mord'Sith a touch of entertainment in being undetected. Her hand twitched to an agiel, but she checked the action, deciding on a different approach. The man froze when he thought he heard a sound, and though he was right, it was too late. A gloved hand gripped the mace as an arm wrapped around his neck. She jerked it backward and was satisfied with a wet sort of cracking noise from within his throat as his flailing slowed to a stop. Easing the man down, Cara moved to the tree line, waiting for the survivor. She felt particularly sadistic today.

He rounded the rocks, sword at the ready, and spun in a quick circle in search of his opponent. It didn't seem that he cared about his fallen comrade as he cautiously knelt beside his body, looking around for the mace in some of the rocks.

Cara flung the mace, calling out, "Found it."

His head whipped around at the sound of her voice, but he was too late to move out of harm's way. The cry he gave was loud and angry as the mace buried itself in his sword arm's bicep. He tried to better his grip on the sword, but it clattered to the ground.

The man's glare prompted a smirk from her as she approached him. Cara stopped out of his reach, arms crossed, and tilted her head ever so slightly. "I must admit, you held onto it longer than I expected."

"I admit, you're not the particular bitch I was looking for," he spat, clasping his arm.

She remained the image of indifference, but wondered if the man meant her prey, the Confessor or someone else. "And which one would that be?"

He ripped the mace out of his bicep with something between a growl and a laugh. "Now why would I tell you?" The man stood, ignoring his useless arm, and awkwardly held the mace as he took a defensive stance.

Cara's eyebrow twitched but she gave no other response.

The man eyed her, challenging her. "It's a shame you missed."

Her lips quirked into a smile that sent a look of defeat into her current prey's stance. "You don't know much about Mord'Sith, do you?" Upon receiving no response, Cara casually stepped closer to him. "Allow me to educate you."

A desperate swing came her way, but she caught his wrist with one hand, delivering a fierce punch to his bicep with the other. His arm wracked with a spasm and the mace fell from his hand. Frantically, he fell backward to kick out at the woman, using her hold on him to pull the Mord'Sith down with him. The awkward kick glanced off her side and Cara grunted slightly, more of annoyance than pain. The Mord'Sith scrambled to slam her knee into his ribcage, wrenching the captive arm around into an unnatural position. Her knee pressed against his face as she tugged on the broken arm, enjoying the whimpering sounds that escaped him all the while.

"Mord'Sith are deliberate," Cara stated. Her knee pushed his face further into the ground. "And I'm not the average Mord'Sith."

Feeling the woman release him and step away, he waited for the deathblow, enjoying the knowledge that soon he wouldn't have to fight to breathe, taste the blood in his mouth, or feel his useless arms. The only thing she hadn't destroyed was his lower body and it made him give a bloody, broken laugh that sounded more like a sob. An eternity seemed to pass and part of him wanted to believe the bitch just left him there, but he could just _feel_ her. For the first time in his life, he wanted to cry and it angered him more than anything he'd ever known. He gritted his teeth to keep from crying out and awkwardly rolled over, struggling into a sit. His arms hung loosely at his sides and he could hardly breathe without grimacing, but he glared at the woman for all he was worth.  
>Cara continued to stare for a few breaths, a mask of indifference. A twisted smile slipped onto her face while a feigned sense of surprise laced her voice. "Are you going to <em>cry?<em>"

Fury heated his face and he spat at her despite the pain it caused him. In a short space of time, the woman put him through a variety of emotions and states, but as her smile widened at the sight of his blood on her boot, fear chilled his veins for the first time. Before he knew what was happening, that same boot met his face and blood spurted from his nose while his world briefly went dark. Dimly, he was aware of her saying she didn't miss.

"I wished you would've been more entertaining," Cara drawled, pulling him back into a sit. "But it seems you didn't have much fight in you. Now then, why were you following me?" When he didn't answer, she shook him slightly, not wanting him to slip into unconsciousness.

Everything. He'd tell her whatever she wanted to know if she'd just make the pain stop. There was so much blood. "Wizard," he croaked.

"What wizard?"

"In charge. Didn't know if you were the one." He didn't know anyone could feel so much _pain._

Her eyebrow twitched. "Which one?"

"With other wizard." So much pain.

She scolded herself for being too eager and not interrogating him sooner. Business before pleasure. "For what?"

"Control them." Part of him wished he could've been on her side.

"Control who?" He didn't answer immediately so she gave him a firm shake.

"What," he ground out.

She growled, "Control who?"

The man shook his head and it drooped somewhat. "What," he repeated.

"Who does the wizard want to control," Cara demanded, seeing the life fading from his eyes.

"Not," he gurgled, following with something that sounded like "him" before he stopped breathing all together.

Cara sighed and released her hold, watching him fall back. She briefly wondered if he'd lost too much blood, if his injuries were too severe for the breath of life. Even if he did come back, he wouldn't survive too long and she wasn't sure what to question anymore. Trying wouldn't kill her, just him. Again. And so she tried.

The man's eyes fluttered open in alarm and he gave a choked sob, hardly able to breathe. "Let… die."

She spoke quickly. "Wizard looking for someone with another wizard to control someone."

"Not… just someone," he whined.

"Then what?" His breathing was hardly noticeable. She growled, grabbing his jaw and forcing him to look at her.

He stared into angry eyes and managed, "Dark." With that, he met the Keeper for the second and final time. Green flame burned him, but it was nothing like the fire in the brutal woman's eyes. Some distant part of him rejoiced in that.

Cara stared into the dead man's clouded eyes for a few heartbeats, wanting to rip his soul to pieces. She shoved him backward with a growl of disgust. As she stalked off to get to the outcropping for a better vantage point, she cursed herself for putting pleasure before business. Cara knew better than that, but now she was left with more questions than answers. Whoever chose the man to follow her obviously wanted to know where the wizard was, but didn't know which Mord'Sith would have him. Something told her the wizard wasn't with the Mord'Sith, which it had to be because few others could subdue a wizard, of his own accord.

Her brow furrowed. Where did slavers figure into a wizard having a Mord'Sith capture another wizard so he could control the _dark? _Unless the man didn't mean darkness… A hot fury spread through her veins as her thoughts turned to Darken Rahl. Even now he still seemed to be around. The bastard permeated everything. She grabbed onto her agiel, dealing with the confliction she felt. Treason against the Lord Rahl, her master, the one she was sworn to, the one she dedicated her life to, going against everything she was, for the _Seeker!_ The Mord'Sith shook her head. Cara did it for Cara, and she knew it. No sense in thinking about it.

Unanswered questions went in circles at the back of her mind, but Cara merely pressed forward. After a lot of walking and a couple of breaks, it distantly occurred to her to look for a place to camp. She didn't care for a fire during the night in case the tip to head north was actually part of a trap, though she doubted it was. The fear in the barkeeper's eyes was real. Night settled by the time Cara finished cooking her smaller, furry prey and she put out the fire. She ate in silence, pondering the day, as she looked out over the forest. If it turned out the tip was told in fear instead plans of a trap, she'd beat the barkeeper to death. Maybe then she could get legitimate answers from someone in place of cryptic phrases and things that didn't concern her. As the Mord'Sith nodded to herself, she caught sight of a fire dimly lighting the night, just north of her. Cara smirked.

Rested from the night, Cara continued her hunt with quiet enthusiasm. Dawn had yet to stretch across the sky and there was a sort of serenity in the air that escaped Cara. She managed to keep at a level above the camp as she approached. Try as she might to be stealthy, her heart was pounding in her ears and it threw her off. As the epitome of a perfect Mord'Sith, Cara was disgusted with herself. But that could wait until later. So what if Cara was perhaps _too_ excited about killing the damned woman? It was her right.

Cara drew her bow as she neared the camp, a faint smile coming to her face. After she was done here, she'd hunt the Confessor too. Arrow at the ready, Cara sighted on the form returning from deeper sections of the forest. Before she released it, dim light from the rising sun fell on her target. Cara cursed under her breath, not believing her eyes. She was looking at the damned Confessor. _Commanding woman, dark hair, short temper, in need of supplies…_  
>The Mord'Sith all but ran through the forest, back toward the village. A small part of her knew the rush didn't completely lie in finding out where her prey was, but she silenced the voice that said otherwise. It wasn't a line of thinking she cared to follow. Besides, the Confessor could be found easily, but her prey could disappear. And so Cara ran until she was winded, continuing even then toward the village to interrogate someone.<p> 


	5. As Fate Would Have It

**A/N:** Er, been a while. Dx A long while. I figured out a schedule, though. Gone Forever should be updated basically every third wednesday of the month. Gives me balance. Anyone still keeping up with this story, don't fear that it'll die. We're in for a helluva ride.

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><p>Kahlan stared into the embers of the fire, gripping the hilt of one of her daggers. She was too lost in her mind to stand watch, but if someone or something stumbled too close, her dagger would be buried in its chest. Earlier, she had thought she heard something, rather, <em>felt<em> something, but when she looked, she only found a swaying tree branch. Kahlan attributed it to a bird, but she felt it wasn't. And whatever it was only worsened her mood.

Richard snorted in his sleep and her gaze flickered to him, her eyebrows drawing together. Lately, almost everything he did irritated Kahlan and she had a guess or two as to why, but it still didn't seem justified. Maybe she was just too stressed out and taking it out on him. The thought itself bothered her. Angered her.

She was the Mother Confessor.

She had to be stronger.

Kahlan rose to build the fire back up so they could eat. When he awoke, Richard would complain that she should've let him do it, but she didn't care. She'd just smile and wave it off. Though she wasn't herself—or maybe she was. Spirits, she didn't know anymore. But she'd been mostly able to contain it. Until that cursed Mord'Sith. Kahlan's eyes settled on the sunlight beginning to break through the treetops, bidding goodbye to the tranquil time to herself.

"Richard."

The man didn't stir. Normally, a smile would tug at her lips because of such a thing, but she only felt her eyebrow rise. The woman crouched, picked up a rather small rock and pitched it at his prone form. The rock glanced off his shoulder and he flailed about before trippingly standing, sword held out to defend himself.

Kahlan laughed, "You should probably pull it from the scabbard first."

Richard looked at the sheathed sword dumbly and scratched his head, a sheepish smile coming to his face. "That would be helpful, huh?"

She merely shook her head, a small smile coming to her face. Richard beamed at her, making his way over to help with the fire.

When Kahlan waved him off, his pace became uncertain. "Are you sure?"

Her lip twitched, but the smile remained in place. "It's already taken care of, Richard."

The man's face fell, provoking a feeling of guilt from Kahlan, before looking into the forest and back to her, grinning. "Did you hunt, too?"

"Not yet," she replied, not really liking where he was going.

Richard squeezed her shoulder. "Then I'll be back soon." He stooped beside his bedroll for a moment and walked off into the forest, leaving her to stare after him.

Something troubling struck Kahlan. Struck her so hard she just fell to her knees. She wanted to break something, to feel the impact of her fist on someone's face, to hear someone beg her for mercy only to be denied. She wanted to kill someone.

Blue eyes fell upon her shaking hands, clenched into fists. She relaxed them, running them down her thighs over and over. Finally, she just clasped her hands together, her knuckles white. Heart thundering in her chest, she closed her eyes and attempted to focus on it. "What's wrong with me," she whispered into the air.

Her gaze strayed to the small fire and she sighed, moving to lean back against a log. Richard would be back soon so she didn't need to worry about keeping the fire. She realized her hands were in fists again. Kahlan exhaled loudly, drawing her knees to her chest and wrapping her arms around them. She closed her eyes.

A twig snapped and Kahlan's arm shot out, but she twitched her fingers at what might've been the last moment. The dagger buried itself in a tree next to a wide-eyed Richard, frozen in his tracks.

By the Creator, she could've killed the Seeker. "I'm sorry, are you alright?"

He laughed, but she could hear the slight presence of fear in it. "Of course. I'm glad you're on my side."

She rose to relieve him of the couple of rabbits he caught as he freed her dagger from the tree. Kahlan accepted it with a small, forced smile. "I wouldn't be on anyone else's side."

"Good," he stole the rabbits back from her and walked off toward the fire, "because I'll take care of this."

Though she ached for something to do, to occupy her hands, to keep her from thinking, she let him take to the task, moving to sit on the other side of their small fire. She had to be more careful. If she didn't contain whatever was _wrong_ with her, she wouldn't be any good to the Seeker. _Richard_, she corrected.

Once again, Kahlan got lost in the fire, listening to the faint crackling of it. Soon her eyes focused on Richard. What about him had changed? He was stronger, wiser, perhaps more determined.

He chose that moment to rub the back of his hand across his forehead and looked up, smiling at her. She returned it mechanically, the action making the man nod as he went back to preparing their food.

It wasn't him, it was her. What about her had changed?

The answer started to surface and before she could attempt to drown it, a suspicious cracking noise caught her attention. It couldn't have been the fire, it sounded off. Her eyes cast around and she was rewarded with the sight of a few swaying tree branches. One was broken, barely attached to the tree anymore, but what was interesting about it was the fragment of red leather stuck to it.

Hands flying to her daggers as she rose, focused solely on the thought of the woman it belonged to, she couldn't help the glare fixed on Richard when he caught her by the arm.

"You can't just run off, what is it?"

"A Mord'Sith."

His brow furrowed. "How do you know it was just one?"

"If there were more, they would've ambushed us, but," she looked back to the leather, "Why are we discussing this?"

"I think we should split up."

"Excuse me?"

"I can track her, you try to find Zedd."

"Are you crazy?"

Richard gazed in the direction of the leather, avoiding her intense eyes. "You said it yourself- she's alone. If she ran, it was because she was threatened and-"

"We're wasting time, Richard!"

He pulled harder on her arm as she tried to break free. "Kahlan, you can tell when people are lying. Go to the camp and try to find some information on Zedd. There's no more than three men, you can handle yourself." The look in her eyes chilled his blood. Richard released her arm and offered a hopefully reassuring smile. "By now, she's slowed down because she's not being chased and she'll feel overconfident."

She couldn't look at him anymore. That familiar feeling of late stirred within her. It occurred to her that her fingers hurt, so she relaxed her grip on her daggers, sheathing them. "And if she has friends waiting for her?"

"Then why would she be travelling alone?"

There was no winning. "This isn't the best plan, Richard."

"I know, but I don't want to be here any longer than we have to be. There's something wrong here."

"All the more reason to stay together." She said the words, but didn't feel them. Part of her was happy to be left with herself.

He turned to go, but whipped back around, a troubled look on his face. "You don't think it's Cara, do you?"

"No!" It came out faster than she meant it to, surprising herself as much as him.

"I was just wondering, since she makes you so upset…"

"I didn't think it until you mentioned it."

Richard studied her a moment longer. "Be safe."

She merely nodded as she started putting out the fire. It was a shame they didn't have time to eat. As Richard's footsteps faded, she realized she hadn't told him to be careful.

* * *

><p>A gloved hand caught hold of a man's collar and shoved him into two advancing men. Seeing a fourth man rushing her, Cara made a hasty decision to land a kick on him despite her questionable sense of balance and the fresh beer coating the wooden floor. The blow made her slip and she barely caught herself thanks to a table. He let his sword clatter to the ground as he stumbled into a different table, but he just grinned and heaved a nearby chair at the Mord'Sith. Busy trying to regain her footing and gauge how quickly the two of men on the floor would recover, since one was unconscious, she barely noticed the chair in time to raise her arms.<p>

The impact sent her backward and over thanks to the slippery floor and the less than helpful chair behind her. She cursed, bracing herself for the fall with her arms.

She hated small environments.

Cara seized pieces of the very chair that hit her and hurled them at her attacker, lunging forward as she did so. The man batted away the hunks of chair. A stray piece collided with his face, but his jaw dropped when an unexpected agiel slammed into his side. Then another. He passed out.

Or died.

It didn't matter.

About to bring her fist down on his face anyway, the Mord'Sith stopped. She had two unaccounted for assailants.

She whirled around to discover that a man was being by held one of her attackers and beaten by the other. Strange as it was, Cara didn't hesitate to holster one of her agiels and run over. Her arm slipped around his neck as her agiel drove into his spine, screaming as loudly as he was.

She tossed him aside as his remaining companion pushed the beaten man into her. The extra weight made her grunt and she heard him drawing his sword. With no other option, Cara shoved the man back into him and whipped her agiel across the brute's face. They both fell to the ground and her boot elicited a sickening crack from the man's neck.

Cara gazed around wildly, chest heaving from exertion, and discovered no more hostiles, just a few men that were too terrified to flee when the fight started. The bartender peeked out from over the counter as she retrieved her bow and arrows. She'd have words with him later. Her gaze came back to the man entangled with the body of her enemy.

Holstering her agiel, she crouched beside him, rolling the corpse off of him. She stared at the man as he sat up, coughing and holding his side, looking back at her despite a swelling eye. "You attacked them." A statement, not a question.

He laughed, though it quickly became a cough and he simply nodded.

"Why?"

"Haven't had hope in a long time." He winced as the bartender held a wet rag to his eye.

Her lip curled into a smile. "How long is a long time?"

Though he looked as if he expected her to beat him to death, the bartender spoke up. "Laugh if you want, but _you_ have them running, not the Seeker and the Mother Confessor."

"They were here?"

"Passed through quickly, looking for an old wizard," chimed in the bloody man.

"Shut up, Tommy Boy. Will, help Tommy to a bed." The bartender moved as a man came over to get Tommy up.

Cara grabbed his collar, drawing his attention away from the beaten man. "How long ago and who is they?"

"Few months. A Mord'Sith and a young wizard came in with these damn slavers."

Things made little sense, she wanted to kill someone and her patience was wearing thin. "And they kidnapped the old wizard." He nodded, compliant, but her voice still rose. "What do they want with the old man?"

He backed away from her a little. "Elysan needs him for power, don't know what for." He ran a hand through his balding hair, adding with a curse, "Don't even know why they're taking our people. We need—"

"What was that _racket_ in this damned…"

The haughty voice trailed off, but Cara knew it well. Turning in time to see a Mord'Sith staring at her in surprise, she smiled, stalking forward. "You ran off before I could greet you at the Temple. How rude of you, dear Trianna."

The woman ran off, yelling to someone. The thrill of the hunt made Cara's blood sing and she forgot about everyone in the tavern. She ran out after Trianna, but cursed loudly at the sight of two more slavers waiting for her. A glance told her that her prey was riding off on a horse.

"Say we don't kill her yet and share her?"

The larger one laughed his agreement, cutting his axe through the air. His companion gripped a rusty sword and started toward her.

"I'm getting bored of all of you," she drawled, grabbing her agiels so tightly they screamed as if excited for blood.

The small one with a sword lunged at her with a cry. She deflected it with an agiel and struck him in the solar plexus with the other.

Cara rolled her shoulders, circling the larger man that had merely observed, the delight gone from his face. "Your turn."

She feinted, but he caught onto it and slammed the butt of his axe into her left shoulder. The shock of it nearly made her drop her agiel, but she gritted her teeth and held onto it for dear life as the blade of his weapon swung in her direction. Her agiel caught it by the hook of its blade. The blow she suffered and the man's raw strength made her fall to a knee.

She had to keep the blade away.

The Mord'Sith's free agiel connected with the inside of the man's knee. He howled in pain and wrenched his axe backward. The movement tore her agiel from her grasp and threw her off balance. He stumbled backward, unable to hold himself up properly from the injured knee. She picked up the fallen man's sword and drove it into the larger man's gut before letting an agiel scream into his chest.

Damn everyone for wasting her time.

Cara tried to ease her breathing as she went to retrieve her other agiel, testing her shoulder as she went. Having two of them was more than an advantage. Way more.

"There's a horse behind the tavern," called the bartender from the doorway.

"Why didn't you tell me that before?"

"You weren't a friend."

She was going to point out she might very well kill him and was anything except his friend, but he'd already ducked back inside. With a huff, she stalked off to get the horse and wished she hadn't had to abandon her original horse in the first place. Damned trees were too thick for the beasts. But it didn't matter now, as she rode down the same road as Trianna. She'd have to abandon her horse, too. There was no way the Mord'Sith's lair was out in the open, by a plain road. And Cara would follow.

The hunt was on.

Down the road, out of town, Cara's suspicions proved right. She dismounted, noticing that the dirt was kicked up as if a maddened horse ran by instead of the normal prints she'd been following for a while. With a smile, she backtracked on foot until she found the start of the crazy prints.

"Not clever enough," she laughed, walking off into the trees.

She made sure not to get too excited despite the mad beating of her heart as she tracked Trianna. However, she eventually found a significant lack of previous passage and looked around with a scowl.

"Maybe clever enough," she growled.

Rolling her shoulders, Cara started in a direction at random. She stopped. She was being eager again, not thinking. There. The faint sound of a river. Cara stepped carefully, taking a few turns to get closer to the river, cursing Trianna. The Seeker. That damned Confessor. _Mother _Confessor, she noted with a dry laugh. Just as she began to think about beating up a tree to settle herself, the Mord'Sith heard a female voice. She dropped to a crouch and eased forward, half hiding behind a tree.

Fury burned in her veins.

The Mother Confessor was talking to herself as she walked along the river.

She drew her bow and pulled out an arrow, aiming at the dark-haired woman, murmuring, "Your heart is mine, right out of your chest."

Then a man stumbled out the brush. He shouted in surprise as loudly as the woman and Cara turned at the sound of more voices, realizing just off to the right was a small camp with at least two other men. She was too distracted by the woman to notice it at first. A stupid mistake. Let her die, then. Be done with it. If she lived, Cara could shoot her. Problem solved.

But to make things interesting, three men followed the first one out the brush. The Confessor was sorely outnumbered with just her daggers and Cara sighed. There wasn't anything entertaining about it.

As the men formed up to flank the lone woman, Cara loosed an arrow. Before a man fell, another arrow was on its way to bury itself in a man's leg. He cried out and though there was a certain amount of confusion, the Confessor apparently saw an opportunity, getting a hand on the one closest to her. Cara shot off one more arrow before running the small distance to the river and across it. She didn't want to miss the fun, after all.

The confusion had just about worn off, but the Mord'Sith swung her bow across the head of the man she'd just shot. Then her agiels came out.

Though they were a ragtag team and the confessed slaver was perhaps too intent on protecting the Confessor, they made short work of the surviving men. Just as Cara put her agiels away, she was shoved to the ground.

"What do I do with her, Mistress?" He leveled his sword at her, standing between her and the dark-haired woman.

"Get your pet or lose it, Confessor," she spat.

"It's okay. What's your name?" Kahlan touched his shoulder.

"You sure?"

Cara stood, wrenching the sword from him. "_I'm_ sure."

He made to grab at it, but Kahlan's voice cut through the air. "Enough!" She eyed the Mord'Sith, but didn't move. "Your name?"

"My name is nothing, Mistress."

She gathered her daggers with a sigh, too tired to be aggravated by Cara's thinly veiled laughter. "What are you doing here?"

"The other Mord'Sith had us checking the forest in two groups."

"That's why there were more than three of you," Kahlan mused, choosing to ignore Cara's bored expression. Cara. Mord'Sith. "Other Mord'Sith?!"

"Trianna," Cara supplied.

Kahlan frowned at her, but eventually nodded. "The one you were hunting?"

Cara nodded.

The woman asked, more to herself than anything, how everything tied into each other, but the man took it to heart and opened his mouth. And promptly closed it thanks to Cara smacking the flat of his blade into his stomach.

"Cara!"

"What? I didn't kill him. I just know everything you need to know." Her eyebrow quirked. "And I didn't know we were on a first name basis, _Confessor._"

Kahlan sighed heavily. "Give him back the sword, we could use his help."

The Mord'Sith snorted. "Kill him or something, but be done with it. He's a blundering idiot and likely to get us killed."

"I'd die for my Mistress!"

Green eyes rolled. "And you were so eager to lick her boots you knocked her over in the middle of battle."

His jaw worked, but Kahlan cut in. "Fine. Go, protect the people of that town as you would me." Her hand stopped his protests. "Go."

The man's shoulders slumped, but he turned to Cara nonetheless, holding out his hand. "Yes, Mistress."

The blonde hesitated, though Kahlan couldn't guess why, and leveled the blade at his throat. "There's a man," she paused, tilting her head, "Thomas or something, at the tavern. He'll know someone that will help you, but make sure he's alive."

He looked to his Mistress and, receiving a nod, said, "Thomas or something. Tavern." He then took the offered sword and left.

Kahlan wandered over to the abandoned camp instead of watching the man go because she might've called him back. She wasn't sure about being left alone with the Mord'Sith. She supposed it didn't matter anymore.

"Where are you going?"

She sat on a log, not bothering to look up. "I imagine you've got a lot to tell me and only because you want revenge."

Cara started to object to wasting time, but bit her tongue as she actually looked at the Confessor. It was evident she hadn't been sleeping well for perhaps days and something was troubling her as deeply as her apparent tiredness. She'd be no good to fight after more travelling. "Very well, we'll discuss it here."

"I don't know you, I don't trust you and I don't like you," she started as the Mord'Sith sat across from her, arching an eyebrow. "However, you've saved my life twice and I need—"

"I've counted four."

Disbelief washed over Kahlan's face. "You're counting?"

Cara smirked. "Defeating Darken Rahl, the Temple, and that ambush."

"The fourth?"

The blonde tilted her head. "Five, actually. This morning I didn't shoot you and—"

"That _was_ you! Why'd you run from us?"

Cara's brow furrowed. _Run_ from a Confessor? There was no way… True, she ran, but not _from_… "Trianna," she spat. With a dismissive wave, she continued, "Then before the ambush when I didn't shoot you."

"What is your obsession with shooting me? Or lack thereof?" Kahlan leaned back, trying to make sense of things, but finding it muddled by her mind and held her head. "You're a strange Mord'Sith, saving my life over and over."

A silence hung in the air for a while. "I just want to kill you myself."

"Later," she murmured, moving to a bedroll, oblivious to the somewhat unpleasant smell of it.

Green eyes watched as the woman's breathing settled and her expression relaxed. After a while, Cara stirred herself, uncertain why she'd been staring so intently at what should've been her enemy, but she knew one thing and it struck her so terribly that she couldn't get up to patrol the area fast enough. The Mord'Sith had no true, compelling desire to kill the Mother Confessor. She cast the realization aside, settling her mind on a single thing:

She was going to kill Trianna.


	6. Embers

**A/N**: A week and a half late. Oops. Dx The sad thing is I only realized I was supposed to update this the sunday of the week it was scheduled. But here we are and I had no idea I was so right about Cara and Kahlan's bondage. I mean, bonding. This chapter was pretty interesting for me. I think I gave myself a nosebleed from it.

* * *

><p>Too many close calls. However, they were, like many things, of two edges, so to speak. Her nose crinkled, temporarily interrupting her smirk. Trianna didn't much care for swords. Her fingers trailed to the agiel that wasn't hers. The hissing of it eased the Mord'Sith. A little.<p>

The agiel echoed in the small tunnel while she cursed every wizard to ever exist, but Elysan in particular. Trianna didn't know why the wizard had to be based in such a dark hole. And those _noises. _They were worse than rats in the walls. Rats. Her thoughts turned. Trianna wanted the knowledge that someone had her back, that her Sisters were with her. The slavers would betray her in a heartbeat, if ever they realized she couldn't fight them all. And the wizard? His magic was no use against her, but she was expendable. Still expendable.

She sighed heavily, trying to ignore the sudden bustling noises within the walls. In reality, Trianna was entirely alone and had not a single clue what to do except try to gain some power. The agiel was screaming, but she wouldn't let go. Even if she went to another Temple, it wouldn't work. Mutiny followed by getting her entire Temple destroyed, her Sisters killed? Keeper damn it all, Trianna hadn't been alone since she was a little girl. Now here she was, pathetically trying to find something to hold onto. But it didn't matter, did it? Her Sister was going to kill her. Her very exceptional Sister.

She wondered if being alone bothered Cara at all.

"Ah, Trianna, I almost didn't hear you come in."

Only years of training kept her from physically jumping in surprise. She needed to die or find a Mord'Sith. Being alone and hunted made her think too much. "I'd be worried if you really heard me."

Mirthless laughter answered her. "Yes, you Mord'Sith are quite capable, in some cases."

Agiel screaming in her grasp again, she focused on its noise. She had traded Cara's haughty authority for this wizard, what a deal. Finally, he descended the steps from the upper area of the cavern and met Trianna's glare with a smile that should have been handsome on so young a face, but it only sent a chill down her spine.

"Tell me, what brings you here?" Elysan's dark eyes glittered as he ran a hand through his equally dark hair, the motion making his robes rustle.

"The Seeker and Confessor are crawling all over the place. We need to do something. Now." Whether pride or fear kept her from mentioning Cara, she didn't know.

"There is no need for concern."

"No _need?_" The fool just didn't know the wrath that lurked out there.

Elysan gave that empty smile again at the sight of the Mord'Sith's hand suddenly tightening on her little toy. Again. Desperation and fear were seizing her. She'd be of little use if it wasn't taken care of soon. "Correct. It isn't time yet."

The agiel whipped out, stopping just inches from his neck and screaming in anticipation. "I'm beginning to think you're wasting my time."

"Not at all," he replied easily. "But for your sake, we'll move to a less interesting place. Go, watch over the old man until someone sends for you."

Trianna smacked him across the face, enjoying the whine of the agiel, and turned on her heel without waiting to see the result. Even as she travelled through the tunnel, she could hear the echoes of his laughter. They both knew her display of power was just that—display. There was something so very wrong with the man. So very disturbing. And he was too _young_ to be so magically gifted, so in control of his powers.

Then again, there was something very wrong with a lot of her life lately. But if she held out, soldiered through it, the meaning of her life would come back. And with it, everything a Mord'Sith needed. There would be sense and order, there wouldn't be this _loss_ inside of her. If she could just hold out a little while longer.

* * *

><p>"You, Seeker!"<p>

Richard started, his hand drawing his sword as he turned, trying to be mindful of the cramped area of the tavern. There was something familiar in the frenzied manner of the man and he didn't seem hostile. But Richard didn't sheathe his sword, either.

"You're a friend of my mistress." The man stopped a small distance away, albeit hesitantly.

He sighed in relief and sheathed his sword. The man was confessed. "Yes, I'm Richard."

"You're here to help."

"Well, yes."

The man nodded. "We need to clear the town."

"What?"

His brow furrowed and confusion laced his voice. "You're here to help."

"I just need directions."

"Then you're not here to help."

Richard backed up slightly. "I need to stop—"

"My mistress wouldn't be happy." The man shifted, staring at the floor as if it held the answers to life. Then, "I don't know what she wants."

"For you to help me." Richard rested a hand on his sword. The man was getting frantic.

"I need to talk to my mistress," he murmured. Just as Richard was about to speak, the man's head jerked up. "If what should be my mistress' enemy is her ally and gives me orders, I'll help you." He nodded, more so to himself than Richard.

"Your mistress' enemy?"

"My mistress calls her by name." He added, in a small breath, "Strange."

He could only think of two enemies Kahlan called by name. One being in the Underworld left one guess, though he found himself hoping he was wrong and his voice came out harder than he meant it to. "Is her name Cara?"

"Maybe."

"You're not sure."

"Does my mistress call any other Mord'Sith by name?"

"No." It was Richard's turn to shift uncomfortably. "How did they seem?"

"I thought you needed directions."

"Yes, but I'm trying to help."

"But you're not doing anything."

Richard took to pacing. He only had so much patience. "I need to know if they're safe so I can just find the other Mord'Sith."

"They're in dangerous lands with slavers roaming and people want to kill them."

"Just tell me how they were toward each other!"

The man cocked his head. "My mistress scolded the Mord'Sith for hitting me with my sword."

Richard stopped entirely, too exasperated to pace. "What does that have to do with anything?

"If my mistress didn't like the small blow from what should be her enemy, she wouldn't want you to hit me."

He started pacing again, hands locked behind his back. If anything, the man's comment made Richard _want_ to hit him. Something troubling was the shortness of his patience. Or the man was that irritating. No, he knew the main source of his emotional state. "Tell me how they were or give me directions."

"You don't want both?"

Luckily, the bartender cut in. "The Confessor's Mord'Sith followed the other one down the path to the right of here. You can get a horse from around back, too."

"Thank you," Richard breathed, unclasping his hands.

"Now I can answer," started the Confessed man again, ignoring the way Richard twitched. "They look like enemies facing a mutual enemy."

Richard all but fled the tavern, muttering about the man's comment as he mounted a horse. The tracks were slightly disturbed, but he didn't have much trouble following them, though at a much slower pace than the previous travelers of the path. After a while, the prints grew frenzied and he dismounted. He almost wandered into the forest, but something caught his eye. Some of the tracks were cleaner than the others. He knelt down for a better idea of them before letting his eyes follow them. They were boot prints, following after a frenzied horse. And they came from the forest. Cara didn't have a reason to go after the horse.

"Smart," Richard said, opting to follow the prints on foot rather than the horse. He led the horse on quietly, almost sorry for the Mord'Sith he was tracking. She might have deceived Cara, doubling back out the forest to the path, but in the brief time he spent with her, he learned something undeniable about the woman.

If Cara wanted something, it was hers. And if someone crossed Cara, that someone was going to die.

Richard mused over it as he walked, finally letting his horse go, though regretfully. It had been his only companion for a little over an hour and the near silence amplified the fact he was alone. It troubled him, realizing he hadn't really been alone since stumbling across Kahlan. And she was off with a Mord'Sith while he tracked another. Funny how things worked out. But before that, had he really been with her? Her attitude had shifted and he felt something deeply off about her. The familiar fear that Kahlan didn't truly hold feelings for him made his insides cold. But they'd been getting better, hadn't they? Even then, he decided it better to wait until whatever problem she had was over so that he could mention some things to her. Some of how she treated him just wasn't acceptable. The Seeker of Truth—Lord Rahl if he took the throne, though the power in his blood prodded his heart, wanting release—dismissed like a, like a _nobody_. Just as heat sang in his veins, his stomach let out a growl. A glance told him that evening had stolen over him without his notice. That explained why his eyes burned with effort at keeping up with the prints.

His stomach growled again and he continued on until the tracks curved into the forest. "Just a little longer," he said, rubbing his abdomen.

In the encroaching darkness, Richard strained his eyes for proof of the Mord'Sith's passage. A loud growl sounded as he went and he willed his stomach to be patient. Richard wiped at his tearing eyes, having an increasingly harder time making note of any tracks. "Just a bit further." Really, here he was blundering about while Kahlan was with a Mord'Sith. What were they doing anyway? The last time he'd seen them together, Kahlan looked ready to pass judgment on someone that personally destroyed her life, and Cara hadn't done anything to her. It was always so strange, the role Kahlan had. He couldn't wait until she could pass her title onto a different Confessor.

Fervently rubbing his eyes, he was dimly aware he'd stumbled into a clearing of some size. His hands froze. It was too quiet. Richard cursed himself, reaching for his sword and opening his tired eyes to see men grabbing their weapons.

One charged him, but the man was careless and his axe went flying from the Seeker's almost too slow deflection. Taking advantage of the opening, Richard ran the man through with his blade. As he fell, there was a better view of the Seeker's enemies, patient and advancing on him as one. He couldn't fight them all, but he couldn't run either.

An eager man made the decision for Richard, jumping forward. Again, he took the role of defense, but managed to knock the man back as another attacked. Richard repelled that man too, slashing at another to keep him at bay. Only luck had his sword in the way of a slaver's mace, but a sharp pain bit into his side anyway.

If it weren't for his sword, his entire side would have been destroyed. But Richard didn't get to worry about it further because something hard connected with his jaw, knocking him down. His darkened vision dotted with light as his fingers flexed, trying to grip a sword that was no longer there.

"Let's get 'im to the Mord'Sith."

There was a grunt, a boot striking his face. Darkness washed over him.

* * *

><p>A slight mixture of a huff and a grunt issued from Cara as she stoked the fire. Something shifted just within the light of it. Her eyes snapped to it, only to roll and return to her charge. Well, her other charge. She refused to stare at the other one. Again.<p>

"Cara," came a soft voice, muddled with sleep and something unsettling.

Was she confused? Maybe she hit her head or something. Cara only stoked the fire.

Then Kahlan jerked into a sit, eyes wild and hair ruffled as she looked around. Cara watched out the corner of her eye, not caring for the Confessor to notice but unsure if the woman would be hostile or not. Finally, she spoke. "Cara?"

"Confessor."

She shifted, settling her hands in her lap before moving to sit across the fire from Cara. "You let me sleep into the evening." Receiving no indication the woman heard her, she continued, gesturing to the fire, "The food smells good."

Cara only grunted.

Silence descended upon them as Kahlan didn't seem to want to try for more vain attempts at conversation. Normally, Cara would be grateful for it, but it bothered her. Rather, the damned woman's fidgeting was bothering her. While it was true the Mord'Sith—strangely—didn't feel compelled to kill the Confessor, the disturbed silence made her want to fight for the sake of normalcy. For the sake of _anything_ at all.

"Do you have a problem with rabbits," she asked gruffly, still not looking up yet paying attention all the same.

"Not at all. I'm starving." Kahlan adored the small creatures, but she wouldn't mention something to be perceived as a weakness to this woman.

She took the spit from the fire, setting it aside to cool. "There wasn't any real game nearby," and as if in afterthought, "Slavers."

Kahlan nodded, looking about them with a distinct frown. "I'm sure the slavers have terrorized the animals as much as the people."

"Meanwhile your stomach terrorized me," was the not too quiet reply.

Kahlan's mouth fell open. "Excuse me?"

"Eat," she said simply, standing to dust herself off. "I'll patrol."

Words hung on Kahlan's tongue as she watched Cara take a third of the food and walk off. Such a strange Mord'Sith. She mused over it while eating, respecting that the woman simply hadn't wanted to be around her. Kahlan should have felt the same, but she was too tired and knew Cara needed her as much as she needed Cara. So there was nothing to worry about.

For as long as Trianna lived, anyway. She heaved a sigh over her situation before focusing on the food alone, grateful the woman left a majority of it.

Restful sleep and a belly full of food. All thanks to a Mord'Sith, though she knew it was only so she'd be useful. When that usefulness ended, she imagined one of their lives would end as well. But for the time being, they needed one another. Cara had made sure of that by preventing the man from giving her information, though she could've gotten it then if she really wanted to. Maybe they'd talk about it when she got back from patrolling. Kahlan snorted. She half-hoped the Mord'Sith would ignore her until morning. Tiredness still clung to her, despite sleeping half the day away. Actual sleep, too, not the restless sleep plaguing her for weeks. Maybe months. Strange. Stranger still, it was in the presence of a Mord'Sith and in dangerous territory. But stranger yet, the Mord'Sith in question. And herself, too. The Mother Confessor in need of a Mord'Sith, and vice versa? She missed her fellow Confessors.

Movement. Instinct prompted Kahlan's fist to swing out as she reached for a dagger with her free hand. The blow connected and she brought her dagger around, but a strong hand caught her wrist. Kahlan swung her free hand but the intruder again trapped her arm.

And she found herself staring up at eyes barely distinguishable between the darkness and blonde hair, but they were unmistakable nonetheless. She relaxed her limbs and they were released.

Cara stalked away to sit across from her, making no comment, giving no indication that anything happened at all. Kahlan combed her fingers through her hair, trying not to look as wild as she felt. Her eyes strayed to her quiet companion. The woman looked into the fire without expression, a distinct tightness in her jaw. Though the silence weighed down Kahlan, uncomfortable and thick, words evaded her. An apology was out of the question, but there was the question of why she'd even considered it. Must've been the goodness of her heart.

Despite her best efforts, blue eyes kept falling on the unmoving Mord'Sith. Opting to abandon these efforts to look for changes in Cara, she sighed at her own tiredness. The shadows cast by the fire gave the illusion of a dark patch of skin near her neck, but parts of it moved. Just shadows. But maybe if she kept staring, it'd provoke the woman. Anything was better than this living silence.

"Patrol was clear."

Kahlan's brow twitched upward, uncertain if she imagined the speech. But it was Cara's voice, as stiff as it had been. Never mind that she hadn't moved at all. "Was there any trouble while I slept?"

"Yes."

A feeling of guilt crept across Kahlan's conscience. "What happened?"

"Nothing."

"What?" Either Cara didn't care to elaborate or wasn't sure if she wanted to. It was likely the former, though it didn't matter. Kahlan's brain wasn't as muddled as before. She just felt _better_. Not the epitome of health, but she'd been a wreck lately and she knew it. "The slavers were meeting to check in and we interrupted whatever it is they were going to do today."

The seeds of quietude started to sprout, only to be stepped on. "Someone will probably come tomorrow."

"If it was truly important, they'd come close to dawn. What do you think?"

"Dawn, noon, somewhere in between." Cara shrugged, moving to stoke the fire.

"So you _are_ injured!"

"What?"

Kahlan's eyes were too focused on the darkness creeping from beneath the woman's leathers to notice the look of violence on her face, even as she moved closer. "Your shoulder."

"Where are you going? What?" Green eyes glared at Kahlan's hand as it motioned for her to scoot over. "No. Go away."

Kahlan kept standing next to her, trying to figure out a diplomatic way to go about this. Even after Cara huffed and ignored her, looking into the fire again. Why did this matter? "Cara, I need to know if your injury will put us at a disadvantage."

"It is not an _injury, _Confessor. It happened before I saved you from the ambush, so there is no need for this. If there's a disadvantage, it would be you."

Between the sheer amount of words Cara directed at her and the insult, there wasn't much she could say. Well, she did want a reaction from the woman… "_I'm _a disadvantage?"

"Nice to see you're aware of it," Cara muttered, still not looking from the fire.

"In what way?"

"In the way it means you're not entirely stupid."

"What, stupid as in getting my allies to beat me and leave me to die?" Kahlan jumped, surprised at how quickly Cara was in her face. She wasn't sure the woman was even breathing, only aware of the smoldering green eyes, wild with fury. But neither of them moved, refusing to break the blistering eye contact.

The fire flickered, growing smaller, but it was ice compared to Kahlan's furious blood. She'd almost forgotten how infuriating the woman was, how her very presence unsettled her. Her voice was softer than the fire. "I only have to touch you to kill you."

A smirk twitched about Cara's lips, her voice as low as Kahlan's. "So then touch me."

Kahlan lifted a hand, lifted it almost imperceptibly each second as the fire died down to the barest of flames. Never breaking eye contact, watching for Cara's movement only to find none. Finally, the fire took its last breath, leaving them with only the light of the moon. Hard blue eyes burned into glittering green ones. The mischief there, of all things, made her blood travel faster. She checked again for some response from Cara. Nothing. Neither of them flinched when Kahlan's palm settled on the Mord'Sith's skin. Her fingers wrapped around Cara's throat and her eyes flicked back to the green ones. Studying her, challenging her.

"Have you forgotten how to do it, Confessor?"

Kahlan's grip tightened just a little, marveling at holding someone's life in the palm of her hand. Someone not begging for their life, but daring her to take it. Her power swirled within the depths of her, pressing against its confines and bidding her for release. But it was quieter than when she'd held Richard's throat, less desperate. Tame, even in its excitement. "I'm just surprised you're so willing to give into me."

"As was I." Seeing the confusion in Kahlan's eyes, she pressed the hand more firmly against her throat. "Seem familiar?"

Indeed it was. Twice now, Cara had pressed her, proved Kahlan held violent rage inside of her just waiting to get out. Proved she couldn't—wouldn't—confess her. "After this…"

"I look forward to it, Confessor." Cara stepped away from her as if there wasn't the possibility of her death just a moment ago.

Kahlan's fingers twitched at her side, feeling strangely empty, missing the feel of Cara. Missing the feel of holding someone's life. There was something different, some missing aspect compared to before, with Richard. Cara's voice tore her from her thoughts.

"Wake me in a few hours."

Even she could hear the distance in her voice. "When are you going to tell me about what's going on?"

"In a few hours."

"After that?" She watched Cara settle down to sleep, facing the other direction.

"Then you sleep. Can't have you being a disadvantage."

"Shouldn't you sleep longer, then?"

"Not even death can give me a long enough reprieve from you."

Kahlan didn't start the fire again, just sat against a log in the dark. Didn't want the fire because then she could see clearly. No, she'd settle for staring into the dark. And, occasionally, at Cara. And as she stared, she placed a name on the missing factor. Rage. No. When she'd held Cara's life in her hand, the rage was there. But it was different, less... something.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** Cara and Kahlan gave me such a hard time because they're at such a difficult and complicated place within themselves. They just don't know what to do with each other. Such tension! I'm pretty sure the pheromones were flying so crazily I got hit in the eye. And they're in store for an even more difficult position. Tehe.

Somewhere along the line, the two of them surprised me. In a wonderful way. I'm so excited about exploring this new direction. Oh, and poor Richard. Not really. Until next time!


	7. A Bid Farewell

**A/N:** This chapter is brought to you by Mountain Dew, guilt, love, an encouraging BardWisp and my husky. She tirelessly followed me no matter how much I paced and never minded how much I babbled about this story.

On a serious note, I hope you guys don't mind that the chapter's kind of long. There were a couple of points I thought about cutting it, but this felt right. It also felt like when I was playing Mass Effect 2 and I had those moments where some things were so huge they felt like an entirely different game. I was serious when I said this story would be a helluva ride and I'm starting to wonder if it's going to wind up with a sequel. I dunno. We'll find out together.

* * *

><p>Cara wasn't bothering to look at her, but her Confessor mask stayed in place, hiding all her thoughts and feelings. The situation was troubling and she needed to think, but to make matters worse, Confessors couldn't read Mord'Sith. "I have no way of knowing if what you say is true." Although everything she'd said was plausible and made sense. But Kahlan didn't have to admit that.<p>

She stoked the fire before letting her head fall back to turn a lazy gaze to the dark sky. "I could be lying."

In the light of the moon, Kahlan continued to study the Mord'Sith. There was something about her tone and the way she lounged against the log. As if it was a game and there weren't lives at stake. Anger stirred inside Kahlan, but the Mother Confessor in her felt something else, saw something else. "As a Mord'Sith is prone to."

"Confessors are just as deceptive."

"Is that so?

"If it needs to be done, a Confessor will try to get it done, but not as thoroughly as a Mord'Sith."

Kahlan leaned back against her own log. "You seem certain."

"There are exceptions to every rule."

She drew one of her daggers to examine it. "Such as yourself." Her expression remained neutral even as she ignored the smallest second that Cara allowed her eyes to flick toward her, no doubt trying to discern if she was being mocked or complimented.

"As are you." The dagger in Kahlan's hand embedded itself in Cara's log, just under her arm, but she didn't twitch a muscle. "Do all Confessors throw their daggers across their camp fires?"

"I wouldn't know." She knew she was being baited, but she couldn't turn it around if she didn't bite. Her other dagger found its way into her hand, twirling about her fingers.

"Going to throw that one too, Confessor?"

"Are you always this inquisitive at night?" She looked across the fire. "Or just when you're nervous?"

"Mord'Sith do not get nervous."

"Strange. I've seen a few. Some even looked terrified."

"They either needed to be broken or killed to save their honor."

"Is that why you're out to kill this Trianna?"

Cara's gaze fell from the sky to lock with emotionless blue eyes. Her tone was dead, factual. "She is beneath an honorable death."

She ignored the warning. "Because she left you for dead?"

"It is beyond your understanding." Her head fell back once more.

Her voice held a sense of finality, such heavy finality that it left Kahlan with not a single word, but a calm curiosity. However, the game they'd been playing at, Mother Confessor and Mord'Sith, was over the moment Kahlan decided to prod her. She didn't even know why she'd engaged in that… Spirits, she didn't know. Cara's posture hadn't changed, but her demeanor was entirely different. If Kahlan wasn't sitting there herself, she wouldn't have believed the Mord'Sith sat across the fire from anyone. Either that or there was someone so beneath her, so utterly outside of her world, she didn't acknowledge their existence. And that was entirely new to her. She knew fear. People feared her simply for her touch. But this wasn't fear and it had nothing to do with her touch.

She couldn't even wish for Richard because he barely understood the woman, if at all. Never mind that she didn't much care to ask for his help with anything. Zedd wouldn't want anything to do with her… Shouldn't she be wishing for Richard's presence regardless? Her dagger bit into her finger. A mistake because of her distraction. She watched the blood well from it, pondering her situation with cold detachment. The dagger joined its twin beneath Cara's arm.

"Is your aim always this bad," the Mord'Sith eventually drawled.

"Only when my target is moving." She felt herself return Cara's slow smirk with a cold smile.

"Perhaps I should sit still." She knew she was so still the Confessor could hardly tell she was breathing, but two could play this game. And damn if Cara didn't enjoy winning games.

"My aim is even worse when it comes to things that don't move."

Cocky. It was a little surprising, coming from the Confessor. Just a little, but pleasantly so. "Even when you have nothing to throw?"

"Well, I've got this." Cara's head rolled so that she could see. Her eyebrow arched when she spotted the pebble and Kahlan just shrugged.

"I don't think I've ever seen a weapon of such high quality."

She wasn't sure if it was the invitation she was looking for—or why she was looking for it. But despite the situation, which was perhaps the strangest one yet, the Mother Confessor felt amused, more so than she had in a long time. And if it turned out that she only managed to anger the Mord'Sith, that just meant she won. Besides, if things got out of hand, all she had to do was touch her.

Kahlan looked up to discover green eyes observing her. They didn't blink when she pulled her arm back.

The pebble bounced off Cara's forehead. "I don't see how you've come to live so long, it's a wonder you manage to hit anything."

Now Kahlan wasn't sure if she was being mocked or complimented, but she wasn't surprised the Mord'Sith hadn't moved when the pebble struck her between the eyes. "Richard usually does the hunting."

"That explains why you weren't at all hungry when we took over this camp."

Her brow furrowed and she broke the eye contact to gaze at the fire. It was true she'd been ravenous when they made camp. How did they come to making fun of Richard? Mocking each other was fine, it was expected. But was she supposed to enjoy it so? Was it supposed to be a game?

Spirits, nothing in her life was simple.

And this damned woman—this Mord'Sith—incited her anger in a way she had never known, which was troubling all on its own. Saved her life when she should take it. More than once. Engaged in mocking… banter. Purposely angered her. Even with a hand at her throat, urged Kahlan to confess her. Twice. Wanted nothing to do with her other than use her to kill someone, then kill her. So why be this way? Richard was simple, made sense, as infuriating as he could be. Why couldn't this woman just be a Mord'Sith? Just be her enemy and be done with it.

Kahlan's own dagger thudded into the log, just beside her shoulder. Her eyes left it to settle on Cara. It looked as if she hadn't moved at all.

"Are you deaf, Confessor? Or did you fall asleep with your eyes open?"

She didn't know how the Mord'Sith could even see her with her face turned up to the sky like that. A witty retort rested on her tongue, but the brusque nature of the woman's tone gave her pause. "I'm only a novice at sleeping with my eyes open. Are you any better? Watch yourself, there's another dagger there."

Cara sat up, rolling her shoulders and plucking the dagger out the log as if it weren't halfway buried in it. "When your Seeker and I were stuck together, we were attacked before we could get our bearings. We fought them, not quite together but with the interest of staying alive in a foreign place with foreign enemies."

She paused, but her eyes seemed too distant to truly be examining the dagger. Breaking the silence didn't cross Kahlan's mind, she just leaned forward. Whenever she'd asked about what happened in the mess of using the Boxes of Orden, Richard deflected. It grated on her nerves, really, that he kept something so important from her with the promise of it not mattering. As if she was some delicate woman. But here was his companion for the journey, telling her about it without being asked. There was something more, though, something that prompted the Mord'Sith to mention it. The woman was nothing if not deliberate.

The silence dragged, her mind and heart equally raced. An urge for Cara to continue almost fell from her lips, but she contained it. The Mord'Sith, aloof and thoughtful, held an indifferent expression on her face, not a haughty, controlling one. She wasn't using her knowledge as a weapon, just as she hadn't been when telling of Trianna and the wizard.

So Kahlan waited.

"We fought around the stone the Boxes had rested on so they couldn't get any more advantages. I was finishing off one when something struck me from behind." Her gaze lifted to Kahlan's, a humorless smirk on her face. "Have I ever mentioned I loathe someone breaking an unspoken agreement without just cause, especially when it ends with a blow to the back of my head?"

Kahlan sympathized with the Mord'Sith that betrayed Cara—to some degree—and with Richard. However, the Mother Confessor in her was repulsed by it. The Mord'Sith gave no fair judgment, but their manner of handling the matter wasn't surprising. They were Mord'Sith after all. But Richard? She supposed he acted out of fear. Still, it was… pathetic. Sitting here with Cara only proved the woman wasn't short-sighted and stupid. If she was, she would've killed Richard the moment they got to that deranged future, never mind whatever threat was around.

Cara moving to stoke the fire stirred Kahlan from her thoughts. The question still hung in the air, obviously one to be answered. Definitely and interesting question, given the woman who posed it, and if it meant what Kahlan thought it did, all the more interesting. She sat back, studying her companion of the moment. What was her idea of "just cause" to break such agreements, anyway? "I didn't think it was something that had to be mentioned."

"Neither did I," she said drily, settling back to regard the Confessor and endlessly twirling the dagger.

"So, after the blow?"

"The Seeker stepped over me, cried like some fat nobleman breaking from the smallest touch as he picked up my agiel and ran away."

If she weren't the Mother Confessor, her jaw might have fallen open. But she was the Mother Confessor, her jaw stayed in place, her tone didn't betray her. "Why take your agiel?"

Cara shrugged a shoulder. "I managed to deal with those that hadn't run after him. Later, I found the Seeker and asked for what was mine. It—"

"How did you 'ask' him?"

Cara's face betrayed nothing, thought Kahlan guessed she was deciding whether or not to address the interruption. But only for a moment. Her lips curled into the beginnings of a cruel smile. "You know how I caught your ambushers by surprise?"

Strangely, she was more so curious than concerned. But then again, Richard made it through everything perfectly fine, so she supposed it didn't really matter. She rested her head on her fist. "Heroically?" The smile traded itself in for a twitching eyebrow. It was interesting, getting under the Mord'Sith's skin. And deathly satisfying.

Cara gave a shrug, her brow raised in mock wonder. "He was walking and some rock just flew and struck his face so hard he fell."

The image was nothing short of hilarious, but Kahlan bit her tongue and simply nodded, fully aware that the Mord'Sith was watching for a reaction. Maybe she'd feel bad about it if Richard hadn't been grating her nerves, hadn't fled and left Cara to die. She frowned. It shouldn't matter. And what would she have done?

Blue eyes found green, observing her.

Kahlan would've killed her.

Maybe.

So many unknown things. Would they have given her pause? Creator, she didn't know.

Her other dagger thudded beneath her arm.

"There, both of your toys. Now you know what I know and had a nice story. I'll wake you at dawn."

"Still think I'm a disadvantage?"

"At least you haven't run off." Then Cara's head dropped back.

The Mord'Sith was obviously done with her, whether she slept or not, but—wait, did she just give a compliment? Kahlan stared, wondering if the woman actually examined the stars or just stared at nothing at all. As a Confessor, she'd never encountered a Mord'Sith like this one. As a person, she'd never encountered anyone like the Mord'Sith. At least, it _seemed_ like she held the echoes of a person. Of Cara. Whoever that was.

Otherwise, why particularly look after a girl for someone else?

Otherwise, why make it a point she wouldn't betray her and didn't expect Kahlan to betray her? Why the temporary truce? Because there was no other reason to bring up what Richard did to her.

Spirits, it was like the Mord'Sith lived to drive her crazy. Even after she got Zedd, Cara killed Trianna and they parted ways today, the damage was done. She would forever think of the Mord'Sith differently. And be permanently bothered just by the knowledge she existed, forever curious about the woman. Why was she thinking as if the day wouldn't end with the two of them trying to kill each other? She really did need sleep. She was the Mother Confessor. She would kill this Mord'Sith. Because that's what they were, Confessor and Mord'Sith. But if there was meaning to Kahlan, was there meaning to Cara? Was there more than just the Mord'Sith, like there was more than just the Mother Confessor?

Kahlan sheathed her daggers and crawled into a bedroll, focusing on the smell of it to cast all thoughts of the Mord'Sith from her mind. She was glad her fellow Confessors couldn't see her. See the Mother Confessor drifting off to sleep in the company of a Mord'Sith.

* * *

><p>"Wake up, my boy."<p>

He groaned. He tried to swat away the hand slapping his cheek, but his hands didn't cooperate. Richard's eyes fluttered open to discover an old face hovering over his. "Zedd?" Talking sent radiating pain through his skull.

"None other. I'm afraid you need to get up." He glanced to the side.

Pain shot through him, so he closed his mouth. Richard nearly fell in trying to brace himself, realizing his wrists were bound. The fog encasing his mind started floating away. He'd been stalking the Mord'Sith, ambushed and was now with Zedd. And bound. A boot sent flaring pain throughout his ribs.

"There's no need for that!"

"Hands off, wizard. He needsa get up faster."

Richard pushed off the ground, more so rolling to his knees than anything, and dragged himself to his feet. No sooner than the instant he succeeded, a strong hand propelled him sideways. He stumbled, barely managing to stay on his feet.

"Seeker, how nice to see you. This poor man has been carrying you through the woods. Isn't he kind?"

Richard took in the smirking, leather-clad woman and knew. This was the one he'd been looking for. And he was at her mercy. Anger thudded in his heart as he caught sight of something at her hip. "You aren't fit to bear the Sword of Truth."

"Don't worry, I don't care for your little toy."

Trianna gestured to the men behind her and Richard realized at least two dozen men were around, a few cleaning up the remains of camp. A glance told him dawn was approaching. They'd dragged him, judging by how his body ached, for quite some time and were heading somewhere. He hated not knowing where he was going, where he was. Hated not having his sword. It was his right. His.

"Are you alright," Zedd whispered. "Don't do anything stupid, my boy. I'm sure Kahlan's safe and doing everything she can."

Richard's face settled into a scowl. What would Kahlan possibly do against all the slavers? Well, she was with Cara, though they might kill each other. Or something. He didn't know anymore. But there was something she'd said, something about Cara hunting a Mord'Sith. And the truth of the matter was that whoever crossed Cara, well, they died. With the exception of himself. He smiled. "So what are you going to do with the sword?"

She didn't break stride. "That's not your concern anymore."

Zedd gave him a meaningful look, but Richard just smiled and put some cheer in his voice. "No, but it's yours now."

"Are you trying to threaten me, Seeker?"

"Not at all, I was just thinking how unfortunate it will be when a certain blonde Mord'Sith decides to cut you in half with it."

Trianna marched back to him so quickly he didn't have time to wipe the smile off his face, but her fist did a good job of it. Distantly, Richard could make out Zedd's protests. His vision burned white with pain. He couldn't form a thought about passing out before the white gave way to darkness.

Footsteps. Ringing. Panting. Richard opened his eyes to make sense of the sounds. Rather, he tried to. One wouldn't open and he had to squint so the warm sunlight wouldn't worsen the pain in his head. The little that he could see flashed black as his upper body slammed into the ground.

"Why have you stopped, wizard?"

"A…awa…awake," Zedd panted, bending to brace his hands on his knees. He was far too old for this.

It didn't make sense to Richard and he tried to speak, but only groaned. A boot pressed against his chest. Not to attack him, but to make him have a hard enough time breathing that it demanded his attention.

"Behave. Next time, Seeker, I'll use my agiels."

He wheezed something incomprehensible, so he just nodded. But then the boot pressed harder.

"What was that? I didn't hear you."

Men laughed. Some amused, some nervous. There wasn't a sound from Zedd other than labored breathing. Part of him understood the man's silence, but another part of him felt betrayed in some sense. "Okay," he breathed.

"You're going to behave?"

He wanted to kill her. He wanted to kill her more than anyone in his entire life, and it'd taken him a long time to deem Darken Rahl's death necessary. Even then he didn't really _want_ to kill him. But this Mord'Sith? He—

The shock of an agiel made him hiss. It was the most fleeting touch he'd ever known, but the pain lingered. The Mord'Sith leaned forward, putting some of her weight down on his chest. "When I ask you questions, you answer them."

"Yes."

"Yes what?"

Seeing the joy, the pure relief, in her eyes, he knew what she wanted. Knew she wanted his defiance. She wanted to break him, but there was something else, some kind of need. "Yes… Mistress."

A smile promising pain answered him. She removed her boot, stepping back to gesture to someone. "Get him up."

Hands helped him to his feet and a voice in his ear said, "My boy, do shut up."

Richard stumbled a little, but kept his footing. Even though he wanted nothing more than to collapse on the ground and sleep for a week. No, he wanted something more. His eyes found Trianna's back. Yes, he wanted something much, much more.

Trudging along, he hardly managed to be distantly shocked at his own morbid thoughts. Then, he dismissed it. He wondered who would get to Trianna first. It'd be a terrible thing if he got a hold of her first He shouldn't let his anger grip him so, nor should he indulge in cruelty. But he had the Rahl blood, didn't he? This Mord'Sith should bend to _his_ will. He was responsible for her power. He shouldn't be bound like a slave, bloodied by her hands.

This Mord'Sith was not his better.

"Whatever you're thinking, don't do it."

He'd forgotten Zedd walked along beside him. "There's nothing to worry about," he whispered back.

But Zedd just looked at him, his face a thoughtful mask. His eyes fell back on their path. Good. He didn't care to be questioned now. "So where are we going," he called out. No response, just a pointed look from Zedd. "I just want some idea of where we're going. I am the Seeker, you know."

"You know you're the Seeker, so know your place," came the bored reply.

"My place? Shouldn't you be more concerned with yours? You're my Mord'Sith, after all."

She stormed back, hissing, "I'm not your anything, unless you're calling me 'Mistress' like the dog you are."

"Don't you have somewhere you'd like to take us," Zedd interrupted.

"Yeah," said one of the men. "Can we get goin'?"

Trianna's agiel crashed against his face once, twice, three times. He crumpled down and when someone moved to pick him up, she spat, "Leave him."

"Your control is terrible." Richard didn't flinch under the glare of the imposing Mord'Sith. In fact, he looked sympathetic, even as he glanced at her screaming agiel. "Don't worry, I'll have your mistress fix you."

She backhanded him, the veins in her neck stood out and her eyes were large, wild. "I have no mistress but myself!"

From the ground, he laughed despite how it hurt him. "I'll let Cara know about your delusion. But really, why don't you just kill me? You obviously want to." She yelled something about killing him, but he spoke softly. "Still not in charge, are y—"

Cloth filled his mouth and went around to be tied at the back of his head roughly. He was dragged to his feet and away by Zedd. "It's too early for my old bones."

Richard looked back to see men hurrying along. But Trianna? She was rooted to the spot. The only movement she'd made was to turn around to watch Richard stumble away. Her face screamed murder. His murder.

* * *

><p>Screaming tore Kahlan from sleep. She almost fell in rising, but her daggers were ready, her heart raced, her eyes took in the scene. Rather, the lack of one. Cara was gone. Another scream. She took off in its direction, tearing through the trees. The screaming stopped, she didn't.<p>

Kahlan caught a glimpse of red leather, but it was quickly obscured by a man's bulk. She flung a dagger without slowing. He cursed loudly, forsaking his weapon to reach for the dagger now buried in his back. But then he yelled, convulsing, and fell, revealing a victorious Cara. Green eyes found blue. Then Cara moved, likely finding another target.

Kahlan broke into the small clearing, running straight into a man. Her sheer speed bowled him over and the air was driven from both their lungs, but only he held a dagger between his ribs. She yanked it out, bringing it down again to finish him.

Air flew from Kahlan's lungs again as a boot slammed into her side. She landed a few feet away, just in time to see a great sword cutting the air where she was. It arced strangely, though, and she saw why. The ogre of a man put everything into it, intending to cut her in two, but there was Cara, holding an agiel to his shoulder. Her other agiel came around to his chest, but he abandoned the sword, wrenching Cara's hand away.

Kahlan scrambled to her dagger, pulling it from the corpse and driving it into the huge man's thigh in the same motion. The whine of an agiel sounded and he collapsed.

She looked up, rubbing her side, to discover Cara, tense and scanning the area for any possible dangers. "Nice kick."

"Nice entrance, Confessor."

"I'll take that as a compliment."

She sheathed her agiels and finally looked at Kahlan. "It wasn't one."

It was something automatic—holding her hand out for some help getting up—otherwise she would've realized how stupid it was. But that didn't matter because the blonde only lifted an eyebrow. Of course she wouldn't help Kahlan up, but there might just be something in that. "Afraid I'll confess you," she asked as she stood, dusting herself off.

"I'm not afraid of anything."

"Is that you or is it a Mord'Sith thing?"

She didn't answer immediately. It was an odd question. Stupid. She watched the Confessor retrieve her dagger and pause to look at the ogre of a man. "There is no difference."

Kahlan knelt beside the man. "You didn't kill him."

"You can't confess dead men," she said drily.

"You could've given him the Breath of Life."

"Unnecessary effort." Cara looked around as the Confessor did something or other. She breathed in deeply, breathed in air that held promise. She'd done a perimeter check, then went hunting, but didn't expect the men so soon. An invigorating start to her day. Today would be a good day. She could feel it. "Today you die."

"Excuse me?"

"Not you, Confessor." Her eyes rolled. She had no idea the Confessor was so conceited.

Blue eyes studied her companion a little longer. "Trianna," she said flatly. "Well, are you going to help me or not?"

An eyebrow lifted. When Kahlan gestured toward the man, Cara crossed her arms. "I don't believe Mord'Sith aid in confession."

"Creator, help me," Kahlan muttered.

"If that's whose help you require, I'll take me leave. You should try making sense, Confessor. It might actually suit you."

"Fine. Leave. I'll tell Trianna you said something really polite."

"You'll do no such thing."

"I would and if you leave, I will."

"Even if I leave, you will do nothing of the sort."

Kahlan crossed her arms, mirroring Cara's posture. "Are you attempting to order the Mother Confessor to do something?"

"No. I'm ordering you _not_ to do something."

"And who are you to order me?"

"Cara Mason. Best damn Mord'Sith you'll ever encounter."

"I think you're missing the part about me being the Mother Confessor."

"What about it?"

Kahlan's mouth hung open a little. Just a little. "What do—Are you serious?"

"Do I look like I'm joking?"

"If I live a thousand years, you will still be the strangest person I have ever met."

Cara looked unimpressed. "And if I live a thousand years, you will still be the first person I suspect to have a failing mind."

"You're insufferable!"

"Forgive me, it seems I'm stealing your role."

Was she being _funny?_ It was a bit of a gamble considering the utterly indifferent look on Cara's face and the way her voice held no inflections, but it felt different. And really, what business did they have arguing like this in the middle of hostile territory and over the body of an unconscious man, no less. They were enemies and here she was having her role… Her role? "I'm not insufferable!"

"Didn't you want something," Cara asked calmly, as if the Mother Confessor weren't gaping at her. She ignored her and looked to the sky. "We don't have all day."

She followed Cara's gaze. It was still cool and the sun had yet to reach above the trees, but threw its rays around certain branches and throughout the forest in spots of light. "The day just started!"

"If you keep yelling like that, you're going to wake the dead and this time, I just might not save you."

"I somehow think only you would define kicking someone as saving them."

Cara's eyes rolled. "That's not necessarily true, but next time I won't pull it. I think I'd rather drag your body through the forest than suffer you."

"Can you at least have the decency to carry me?"

"What for? I already said I'd drag you. That's beyond decent."

"Cara, in what way is that possibly decent?"

She drew an agiel, turning it over and staring at it. "I don't have any obligations to you." Her eyes flicked to meet Kahlan's. "I've encountered plenty of Confessors who would rather die than receive the help of a Mord'Sith."

"Well I do believe I am the Mother Confessor, you're supposedly the best Mord'Sith, and we've already saved each other, so we might as well keep breaking the rules."

"What, do you want to bed me, too? Besides, you've never saved—"

"Ex—excuse me?" Kahlan felt her face burning even as her mouth fell open. The nerve of the woman! Seeing Cara's smirk, she purposely slapped her injured shoulder. Hard. "I want nothing of the sort!"

Really, the Confessor overreacted and she probably should've punched the woman right in the face, but there was a distinct satisfaction in the open frustration there. Cara had only twitched an eyebrow at the blow and it certainly paid off, but they were wasting time and she'd already gotten under the other woman's skin. Deeply, it seemed. They needed to move on, so she was surprised when she asked, "Are you sure? You stare a lot."

"St—Cara! I'm glaring at you, there's—"

The slaver stirred and groaned loudly, but it cut off on account of Cara suddenly arcing an agiel from its holster and straight into the man's face, never looking away from Kahlan.

"—a difference," she finished as Cara sheathed her weapon.

"Whatever you say, Confessor."

A comment about the man drifted from her mind. The Mord'Sith just dismissed her, the Mother Confessor, and would continue to do so if she wasn't corrected. "Even if your twisted dream came true, you'd suffer terrible agony and die in the process."

"Well, you might be worth it." Cara openly looked the Confessor up and down, her eyes lingering in some places longer than others. By the time her eyes ventured back upward, Kahlan was sputtering. "And I'm pretty sure it won't be as bad as suffering you." She deflected a swing from Kahlan. "What is it that you wanted?"

Kahlan's fingers twitched, but that burning inside of her wasn't there. She could address Cara's manners later. "We need to get the dagger out his leg."

"That's it?"

"Yes, I—Stop!" She grabbed the Mord'Sith's wrist. Green eyes bored into her, but she didn't look away. "He'll bleed to death."

"You're the one that put it there. Now make up your mind."

"What?"

"Do you want to confess him or get it out? You can't have everything at once." She twisted out of Kahlan's grip and squatted beside the man, never breaking eye contact. "If you don't decide soon, I'll torture it out of him."

"Let's tie a tourniquet, then. We can—"

Cara ripped the dagger out his thigh. Kahlan's objection died in the yell of the man as he jerked up. He lashed out, barely missing her on account of Cara slamming an agiel into his elbow. "Do it, already."

Kahlan caught his forearm as he convulsed under Cara's agiel, holding on despite losing her balance. Her power rushed forth eagerly, diving into their connection and filling their eyes with black, stronger than it ever had. She felt entirely aware of herself and the man, a sense of strength filling her to the point of practically crawling across her skin. It ended too quickly, and she fell back, gasping for air and staring up at the sky as her vision cleared. In the wake of its surge, her dark gift settled into its prison, content, but she felt its perpetual hunger. Her senses calmed slowly, tingles still present on her skin. She'd never felt so good after confession.

"Shut up and make yourself a tourniquet."

"But my mistress."

Confusion made Kahlan sit up. Cara's hand restrained the man as he struggled to get closer to her, concern filling his eyes. She'd seen a similar look on Richard's face. "Do as she says."

He paused, but ripped a part of his shirt and shakily took to tying the strip of cloth around his thigh. "Mistress, are you okay?"

Good question. But she just stared at him, lips parted for words she didn't have.

"The Confessor is fine, but she does have questions."

His eyes turned to her, ready and waiting, eager, but Kahlan blinked at him. She felt _better._ Tired, but better. And she finally knew what was different when she held Richard's and Cara's necks. One inadvertently woke the rage inside of her and one beckoned it like an old friend. At least, it felt like that. Maybe. When the man prompted her, she looked to Cara, still too lost in her thoughts to question the man.

The Mord'Sith crossed her arms with a large sigh. "What are you supposed to be doing?"

"Looking for missing men, seeing if I see another Mord'Sith or the Confessor. I won't tell her anything, Mistress." He moved toward her, trying to emphasize his promise, but a gloved hand jerked his shirt and he stayed put.

"That's right. What else?"

"Mord'Sith ordered me to bring who I found to her."

Cara looked up to find the Confessor staring at her with some expression she didn't recognize. She cocked her head in silent question, but it went unnoticed. Whatever. She could deal with it in a moment. "And where is she?"

"Base."

A loud smack startled Kahlan and before she could process anything, the man was apologizing to her. "I, Cara what did you do?"

"Nothing," she snapped. The Confessor picked a fine time to pay attention. "Where's the base?"

"Waterfall," he blurted, desperately looking to Kahlan.

That's when it dawned on her. He said something to make Cara hit him and he was afraid he'd displeased his mistress. "What's your name," she asked, smiling lightly.

"Ogre." He glanced at Cara when she snorted, but only reacted to the look on Kahlan's face. "People've called me Ogre for, for a long time."

A sliver of sympathy stirred in Kahlan, but she didn't focus on it too heavily. The man was a slaver, after all. "How's your leg?"

"It—"

"What about the waterfall," Cara cut in sharply.

Ogre stared at Kahlan, waiting for some indication of which question to answer first. Cara had a point, they needed to know about their situation. Besides, the blonde seemed agitated enough to hit him again. "Answer her question."

"Base is under it."

"Who's there?"

"The wizard."

"That's it?"

Kahlan closed her mouth since Cara beat her to the question, almost sorry for the man. Her intent on obtaining information rivaled a Confessor's.

"Mord'Sith's taking some men and the Seeker and the other wiz—"

Cara grabbed his jaw, making him face her. "She's going to the waterfall?" He nodded. She smiled. "You're going to show us where this waterfall is."

Ogre's face gave away how unsettled he was by Cara's expression, which was doubled by her proximity, so Kahlan broke in despite the remnants of her disorientation. "Let's get some food and get going."

The Mord'Sith moved away from them without a word and Kahlan didn't get to question it because she had to throw a reassuring smile in Ogre's direction to keep him from blurting out whatever was on his mind. By the time, her gaze returned to Cara's direction, she was stooping to pick up a fallen bow and Kahlan didn't have a question anymore. The blonde going off to hunt left her alone with yet another man desperately in love with her. Only some control she didn't know she had left kept her from grimacing, but her smile grew awkward, just something stuck on her face. The way he stared did nothing to help the situation so she did the only thing she could, aside from run after the Mord'Sith. "So, how's your leg?"

"Fine, Mistress. What's wrong?"

"Nothing." The lie slipped past her lips before she could think about it and the smile stayed on her face. Her eyes cut toward the direction Cara had went. If someone asked her even days ago if she'd be comforted by a Mord'Sith's presence, she would've thought them utterly mad and been offended. Yet here she was. "Our camp is over there." She jerked her thumb behind her for emphasis.

"Wanna go?"

A dull ache settled into her cheeks, but she just nodded and stood, waiting for him to do the same. He just stared, however, taking a full minute to understand that she wanted him to follow her. Well, follow was a strong word, a strong and wrong word, but she didn't have much choice. As it turned out, even favoring a leg, he was tall enough she had to awkwardly tilt her head back to look him in the eyes.

"Can I get my blade, Mistress?" He wouldn't meet her eyes and hung his head to a small degree, shifting around as if he didn't know what to do with himself.

Her brow furrowed and his anxious movements worsened under her scrutiny, but, really, she didn't know why he was acting in such a way. "Please do." Not able to stand the situation anymore, she abruptly started back toward their soon to be abandoned camp. Otherwise, she might've went after the damned Mord'Sith. Shame and guilt caught up with her, slowing her pace so that she wasn't entirely leaving Ogre behind, but it gave her mind time to think. She tried to think of something else, but, Spirits, just about everything in her life troubled her. A depressing realization. She fiddled with the sleeves of her dress as she walked, doing her best to focus solely on the dress itself. Some part of her noticed it wasn't the white of the Mother Confessor, and she took comfort in that.

She stopped just in front of the log she'd sat against last night, memories coming to her and mixing into her already troubled thoughts. Some moments passed and she shook herself, moving to sit, but the realization that Ogre stood so close to her triggered her reflexes to attack. However, at the same time, she registered that he wasn't a threat. So, in the end, the great Mother Confessor flailed about and fell over the log in a heap.

"Confessor, that had to be about the most graceful thing I've ever seen."

Kahlan rolled over with a groan, covering her face. The Mord'Sith would never let her live this down, she knew it. Not ever. Worse, it was the woman's normal tone. She wasn't even being especially mocking, just dry and factual with the typical sardonic undertones. Kahlan wasn't even sure why she cared, but, Spirits, she was embarrassed.

"Don't."

She sat up awkwardly, wincing at the lance of pain in her side. It made her jerk upright to ease it and she sighed, sitting on the log. Of course, the kick had to land where the agiels had struck her. She'd thought her ribs were fine, but really luck seemed to find her an interesting joke lately.

"I said don't."

Cara's voice held the air of an order instead of a firm suggestion, tearing Kahlan from her musings in time to see Ogre looking thoroughly chastised and staring at the ground. Meanwhile Cara stood just within the camp, eyeing him with her arms crossed. Kahlan guessed it was to keep from hitting the man, but there wasn't much to be sure about in regards to the woman. Not even the pack over her shoulder diminished her intimidating air, though Kahlan wondered where she got it. "You're back sooner than I expected." Thankfully, too. Being alone with Ogre might've made her throw herself into the river. Though, it wouldn't have killed the Mord'Sith to arrive a minute later. The river looked pretty nice right about now.

"Yes," she eventually drawled, still boring her gaze into the large man.

Kahlan's eyebrow rose. She didn't have a clue about whatever was going on between the two of them and wasn't entirely sure she wanted to know. "Short hunting trip."

Green eyes didn't stray from the man as she tossed the pack toward Kahlan. "Turns out our friends dropped something when they spotted me and decided to say hello."

Honestly, the fact the Mord'Sith wouldn't look away from Ogre relieved her. She could feel the heat in her cheeks still and didn't care for the woman to see it. So she just opened the pack, discovering some bread and a few pieces of cheese wrapped up, like the remnants of whatever food they'd set out with. She didn't find much reason to say anything, even if she could think of something to say, so she just set about the task of dividing them. Cara and Ogre could keep their strange silence for all she cared.

"Give him less."

"Excuse me?"

"He's a liability already and we need to be the best we can be."

"Cara, I'm giving him the same amount of food."

"Mistress, she's right."

Kahlan shot a glare his way, only turning it on Cara when he looked at the ground once more. Naturally, the ice in those eyes didn't faze the blonde and she cocked her head to the side after a few moments. Kahlan tilted her own head, having no problem with the battle of their wills. Neither of them said anything and Ogre could be heard shifting around, likely at a loss, but there was no room for him in this moment of theirs. There was no Keeper, no missing Zedd, no troublesome Richard, no weight of the world, no Confessors, no Mord'Sith. It was Kahlan and Cara, daring the other with only their eyes, no words, no movement. A certain excitement made Kahlan's heart thrum faster in her chest and sent tingles of restrained energy across her skin, but she had the upper hand and her satisfaction in it was slighter than she thought it would be. She would've liked for it to be on even ground, for it to be something more. Kahlan shoved away her disappointment and raised her eyebrows in silent challenge as she held out Ogre's share of the food.

A few tense heartbeats passed and Ogre practically snatched the food from Kahlan, still looking between the two women. They continued their soundless duel for a few minutes longer than he could stand, so he blurted, "Sorry. Thanks."

The world itself came back to Kahlan, the forest, the river, the camp, all her troubles. Everything. Kahlan looked around as if seeing her surroundings for the first time before focusing on Ogre. "What?"

"I'm sorry. Thanks."

He wouldn't meet her eyes and, given his vague speech, it was a wonder Cara hadn't said anything. Cara. Kahlan discovered the woman had moved off from them, hip cocked and arms crossed as the river—or forest, it was hard to tell—held her attention. She seemed stiff, not alert, but something else. Spirits, Kahlan didn't know. She just didn't know a lot of things lately. She turned back to Ogre. "Explain."

"I, I'm sorry I tried," his speech dwindled to a sort of shamed mutter.

"Speak up."

He regarded her desperately, throwing himself to his knees in front of her. "I'm sorry I tried to kill you, Mistress!"

Oh. That certainly explained a lot of his behavior. She was essentially indifferent about it, a lot of people tried to kill her, after all, but it occurred to her that she was staring at him as if he'd gone mad so she cleared her throat, composing herself. "It's quite alright, I forgive you."

"I can't forgive me."

Whether this man or Richard was worse, she didn't really know. What she did know was that no matter how much she might've wished it, she couldn't order the man to forgive himself. "Then perhaps that is your punishment."

"Yes, Mistress."

Her eyes wandered. Cara could've rivaled a statue. "You were thankful for something?"

Ogre nodded fervently before following Kahlan's gaze. "Thankful she saved you."

"That makes two of us," Kahlan muttered.

"Mistress?"

"Nothing." Her brow furrowed as she stared at the Mord'Sith, a line of thought going in circles in her mind until it connected with itself. She turned to Ogre so abruptly the large man flinched. "Did you know I was with her?"

"Seeker didn't tell us that."

"You have the Seeker?"

"I'm sorry, Mistress."

She sighed heavily, rubbing her temple. Of course things had to get worse. It'd be too simple if only Zedd was captured. But she wasn't… distressed. Just stressed. Really, she should care more about her Seeker. About Richard. But she was just so damned frustrated with him. Guilt crawled around inside of her anyway and she buried her face in her hands, uncaring about how she appeared at the moment.

"I'm sor—"

"Stop apologizing." Kahlan didn't know if he heard her muffled order or just guessed, but it didn't matter. At first she welcomed the silence, but it only served to intensify her headache. She sat up, sighing again. "Eat," she said simply, gathering the rest of the food despite how completely her hunger had left her.

Cara's head turned slightly at the sound of Kahlan's footsteps, but made no other movement. When the Confessor stood beside her, she studied her. The woman stared into the river, giving no indication of noticing Cara aside from the food she held out to her. Cara wasn't a lot of things, but she was observant. Confessors read people based on whatever nonsense, but Cara had stalked people, beaten and tortured them. Turned them inside out and used their own strengths to destroy them. And while there may be a lot of facial expressions that puzzled her, she knew the one the Confessor wore. A few more well-placed touches and she'd snap like a bowstring. Cara took the food and went back to staring at nothing in particular.

Kahlan felt like she'd been offering a wild animal food and was now permitted to be near it, which wasn't entirely a comfortable feeling. Yet she felt more at ease. They stood there, eating bits of the food without a passing word. She'd never known silence to be so comforting, so dense she could _feel _the Mord'Sith, though they didn't touch. It encased the two of them with understanding serving as a method of conversation. The blonde did nothing foolish, did not question her, well, she did—a lot—but not in same way Richard did. Last night proved she knew when something needed to happened, proved she wasn't a mindless drone oblivious to humanity. Even if in doing so she'd flung a dagger at Kahlan to snap her from troubling thoughts. But to be fair, Kahlan had started the dagger-throwing so she supposed there wasn't anything wrong with the Mord'Sith's execution. Execution. Mord'Sith. The gravity of the situation rushed over Kahlan again, provoking another sigh.

"Is your side going to make you a disadvantage, Confessor?"

"I'm no disadvantage."

"Whatever you say, Confessor."

"I say we have an advantage."

Cara's eyes flicked to her. "Is that so?" When the Confessor nodded, she uncrossed her arms. "I had no idea you thought so highly of me."

"Oh, hush." She gave the woman's shoulder a small push.

"Suit yourself."

Kahlan felt a smile tugging at her lips, but it vanished. This was a Mord'Sith. Her mortal enemy. Nothing to smile about. Yet the woman had done it again, hadn't she? Pulled Kahlan from the vast ocean of her troubles? She closed her eyes.

"What's the advantage?"

She inhaled deeply, focusing on the task at hand. "They don't know we're working together."

Cara laughed, loud and unabashed.

And Kahlan nearly toppled into the river in surprise. She gaped at the woman, watching the subtle shaking of her head as she indulged herself. Kahlan had heard Cara laugh before, but this was something she didn't know the woman could produce. It wasn't haughty or cruel or false, just plain amusement. Kahlan laughed. They stood there, sharing a moment of pure mirth until Kahlan doubled over and Cara decided to drop into a sit.

"Of course they don't know."

Kahlan held her side, still having small fits of laughter, but they died swiftly when she turned to Cara. The woman was grinning at her, something like delight in her eyes. She was beautiful, Kahlan realized. Maybe there really was more to her than the outside suggested.

Cara let her gaze stray from the woman, unsure of the soft smile offered to her. No one had ever looked at her such a way, nor had she thought anyone would. They had no reason to. She didn't even know how to describe it because it was so damned foreign to her. She knew something like it from Dahlia, but, hm. Dahlia. That was someone she hadn't thought about in a while. In either case, the Confessor's look was something else altogether. No, it was closer to the smile she'd beaten Raina for. Cara shook herself, realizing the Confessor was still smiling at her. She smirked, settling into what she knew. "A Mord'Sith and the Mother Confessor, fighting side by side. It's madness, isn't it?"

Her smile fell. "That's the first time you called me the Mother Confessor instead of just some Confessor."

"For impact alone, I assure you." Seeing Kahlan starting to grin, she narrowed her eyes. "Don't get used to it."

"Sure, sure."

Cara huffed, fingers twitching. "On days where I'm feeling kind, I usually backhand someone for such insolence."

She crouched in front of Cara, taking in the tightness of her jaw before she stared into the woman's eyes, challenging her. Excitement nearly made her shiver. "What's stopping you?"

"Our mutual agreement."

"I didn't know kindness was part of it."

Cara's features eased, the smile of a predator taking over. "It's not. I just don't think it's a good idea to render you a complete, broken disadvantage with a single blow for something so petty."

Madness danced in Cara's eyes. Nothing else could describe it. Madness. It was the closest to what Kahlan felt inside than she'd ever known. Right there, in green eyes focused only on her. It scared her as much as it thrilled her, but she gave into it, slapping the woman as hard as she could. Kahlan heard Ogre jump to his feet or something, his sword clattering to the ground, but she didn't look, just held up a hand to ward him off. Her heart raged in her chest and she couldn't see Cara's face through her hair, but her shoulders shook. She was laughing. Darkly. She finally turned and Kahlan saw her mad grin, mischief in her eyes. The Mord'Sith moved and before Kahlan could process any of it, she was being heaved into the river.

She flailed about, sputtering as she got her head above water. It was a deeper part of the river, something she figured the Mord'Sith knew. By the time she got out, practically raining water, Cara was standing with a pack and twitching lips. There was a distinct, red handprint on her cheek. Her eyes roamed Kahlan's body as she tossed the pack to her feet. "You hit like a man, Confessor. Wear your white and I might call you by your proper title."

Kahlan stared at the woman, caught between amused and offended. Right, Mord'Sith felt men were weaker. So was it a compliment or criticism? Her gaze travelled to an anxious Ogre, who, under her staring, apologized profusely and faced the other way. Kahlan blushed slightly, remembering that her dress was drenched, and opened the pack. Sure enough, it was hers, Mother Confessor's dress and all. So the Mord'Sith was considerate—or was it just practicality?—even in her, her coldness? She was anything but. Kahlan simply didn't have words for the woman. Well, obnoxious might be a word. She wrung most of the water out of her hair. "You seriously think you're going to watch?"

Cara shrugged.

Kahlan made a circular motion with her finger.

After a moment of silence, the Mord'Sith rolled her eyes and turned around. "We should play to our advantage."

"What do you have in mind?"

"You go in with lover boy and start a commotion."

Kahlan nodded even though no one could see it. "Then you come in as a surprise?"

"Yes, but if we can manage it, it should seem like we're not on the same side."

"Is there ever going to be a plan where I'm not bait?"

"I don't think I make for good bait."

"You should try it sometime. Hey! Don't turn around."

Cara crossed her arms, scowling.

"So," Kahlan smiled, "Next time we plan something, I think you should be bait."

"And I disagree."

Kahlan laced up her dress, as burdened by the white as she was comforted. "You say that now, but just wait and see."

"Whatever you say, Confessor."

It was a pity her dress wouldn't get to dry properly, but she put it away in the pack anyway, aware of the fact there were more important things going on. She moved to Cara's side. "Mother Confessor, actually." Cara eyed her, something she was starting to get used to. "Oh, something else." The blonde merely tilted her head. Something else she was getting used to. It was strange, the easy exchanges they shared. A blonde eyebrow twitched up and Kahlan realized she'd been staring a while. "They have the Seeker, you know."

"It makes no difference."

"No _difference_?"

"None," she said firmly. "We go in, we handle it, it's over."

Kahlan took in the lightening sky. "When today's over, we're going to kill each other, aren't we?" Cara didn't answer, but Kahlan heard her walking away. "Ready, Ogre?"

"Yes, Mistress."

She got her pack and started into the forest after the Mord'Sith, but stopped when he called to her. "Yes?"

"If I live, I'll fight her."

Kahlan walked right up to him, staring the tall man in the eyes. "You'll do no such thing. Even if she's killing me, you'll do no such thing."

"Mi-Mistress, why?"

She swallowed heavily, every moment with the Mord'Sith flittering through her mind before settling on the look in those green eyes before Kahlan slapped her. "Because it's just us."

Kahlan left then, heading toward the small clearing they'd fought in earlier, Ogre trailing behind her slightly. They found Cara standing there, backs to them.

"Which way?"

Kahlan didn't know what kept him from speaking, but simply went after him as he walked past Cara. His limp didn't seem to deter him and she briefly wondered how much it bothered him, but no one seemed to mind the pace he set. The forest was quieter than it should have been, a lot of the animals gone, but Kahlan didn't think on it too much. She didn't think on much of anything. When Cara had walked away from her, a cold acceptance pumped from her heart, through her veins and seeped into her bones. She didn't quite feel it inside of her, though, it was still a physical thing, not entirely taking over her person yet. She would see this day through.

No one bothered to say anything, not as they walked, not when they stopped for a breaks, mostly on account of Ogre's leg. It wasn't even awkward. Just somber silence, each too locked in their thoughts or too focused on the task at hand. Sometime after noon they could hear the river again and it came into sight after a while. Ogre stopped, everyone else following suit.

"Not far now."

Kahlan saw Cara lean against a tree and she would've sat on the ground, but a white dress didn't go well with dirt. She took in the area before addressing Ogre. "Any guards or patrols?"

"Elysan says he doesn't need 'em."

"Foolish."

Kahlan agreed with Cara, but didn't say anything else. After a few minutes, they moved on again, following the river until they reached its origin. It was a pretty sight and Kahlan spent a moment forgetting that there was so much evil in such a place. The waterfall was small, but it still formed a small lake of sorts before it thinned out to form a river. Ogre led them closer, the water rushing down just mere feet from them, and pointed at a small recess in the rock that created a path, if it could be called that.

"Little ways in's the opening."

Kahlan abandoned her pack behind a tree with a small sigh and started toward the little pathway, but a strong hand caught her arm.

"Watch your footing."

Kahlan took a moment to look for some change in those inexpressive green eyes, for _something_ there, but found nothing. So she just nodded. Cara released her arm and Kahlan pressed against the rock, edging her way along the slippery lip of rock. Ogre joined her slowly, mindful of his leg and for a moment, the sheet of falling water tantalized her and she wanted to reach out and touch it, but feared she'd fall.

"Mistress?"

She jerked in surprise, losing her footing and only Ogre's sound grip on her gave her time to gain purchase. Kahlan thought she heard Cara snort, but chose not to address it, instead continuing along until she stumbled backward into the entrance. Ogre followed suit, but his leg gave out as he tried to step into it and his weight pulled him toward the sheet of water. Kahlan grabbed his arm. There was a loud grunt and a lot of force that knocked Kahlan backward. She tumbled down awkwardly, jarring certain parts of her body a few times before she managed to stop herself. Before she could sit up, a dirty boot came dangerously close to her face. "Ogre? Cara?"

Two grunts answered her.

Kahlan stood, realizing Cara must've bodily shoved Ogre inside and caused them all to roll down the tunnel a bit. If the situation weren't so dire, she might've laughed at how entangled the Mord'Sith was with the man.

"Mistress! Are you okay?"

Cara shoved him down as she got up. Her eyes cut in Kahlan's direction before they rolled.

"I'm fine, let's go. Cara what are you doing?" She wasn't concerned so much as curious as to why the woman took hold of her arm. She followed the blonde's gaze to see that she'd scraped her arm against the rock when she fell.

"It's shallow but bleeding like that makes you a bigger target than you already are. This won't take long."

Kahlan raised an eyebrow at the insult. "Too bad there's not much we can do about it."

Cara's grip tightened. "Don't make a sound."

"Why would—"

Cara's agiel screamed against her wound and she hissed, grabbing the blonde's arm, nails digging into leather so deeply it hurt her fingers, but she barely noticed. Then the agiel quieted. The pain lingered and she released a breath she didn't know she held. She found green eyes observing her. Kahlan didn't think to say anything because there weren't any words. She just stared back, knowing the woman indulged in pain for her benefit, however insignificant the pain was to the Mord'Sith. An ache crept up Kahlan's other arm and she realized she still held a death grip on Cara's. She let go, Cara letting go of her in turn.

Kahlan cleared her throat, noticing she'd once again forgot about Ogre's existence. "You and I are going first. Ready?"

He nodded, following after his Mistress while the Mord'Sith trailed behind him. Ogre knew he wasn't the smartest person and he'd spit on anyone that suggested he was—unless it'd upset his Mistress—but he wasn't exactly stupid, either. There was something to the women, something more than he could understand, something beyond the roles life assigned them. If they started to fight each other, he'd get between them. He wouldn't let them kill each other. He'd die to make sure his Mistress was happy.

The tunnel opened into a relatively small but empty cavern. Well, empty aside from abandoned cages, some of the doors broken off. As Ogre and Kahlan reached the middle of it, still looking around, Cara entered, taking in the place herself. Kahlan caught her eyes, finding that the woman liked it as much as she did. As in, not at all. There was a sense of warning there, then Cara's gaze travelled. Kahlan found another tunnel, this one winding in a downward spiral of sorts, and her sense of foreboding grew with each step. There were holes in the walls, like some animal had clawed its way in or out, and she drew her daggers, trying not to let the scraping sounds from within the holes distract her. She heard Ogre draw his blade behind her.

It led into a cavern, this one of larger size, but it wasn't what Kahlan expected. There were candles on tables, an upper area, and large objects covered in ragged sheets of cloth. They were about the same size as the broken cages she'd seen. Most notable, however, was the crack taking up a large portion of the far side of the cavern, green, ominous light spilling out of it. But she didn't take in much beyond that because something else demanded her attention. Something like the silence that took over the place as more than a dozen pairs of eyes bored into her and a Mord'Sith with the Sword of Truth at her hip turned, smirking. "Confessor, we were—"

Kahlan laughed. It was terrible timing, really just not appropriate for the situation, but she couldn't help it. After spending time with Cara, this woman's attempt at being intimidating was a joke.

"What's funny, Confessor?" Her voice was high, strained in anger.

She cleared her throat and put on a straight face, though her lips kept trying to twitch into a smile. "Nothing."

"I insist." She took a few steps, the men drawing their weapons behind her. "Share with us."

"Please do," came a smooth, male voice.

Kahlan smiled an unfriendly smile, her gaze finding the man casually leaning against a railing in the upper area of the cavern, dark hair framing his face. "It's just that I know someone whose eyebrow is more intimidating than her."

The Mord'Sith wrenched her agiel from its holster and halted mid-step as the man's voice called for her to stop. Kahlan had never seen so much hate in someone's eyes.

"Dear Trianna, I'm sorry but the Mother Confessor does have a point. Forgive me, I'm being rude. I'm Elysan, current owner of the Seeker of Truth with no sword, a Wizard of the First Order with a Rada'Han and a small army. You have, what, an injured man?"

"I can't help but notice there wasn't a Mord'Sith on the list." Sure, she was stalling, but she couldn't figure if it was better to force them into the tunnel or go out there. She still wondered about those possible cages.

"That's because he doesn't own me, Confessor."

"I don't know. He says stop, you stop. I'm sure you understand my mistake."

Elysan's laugh cut short as a scuffle broke out behind him. "Control the Seeker," he barked.

Trianna and a number of the men looked toward the disturbance, but not Kahlan. She stepped into a punch, knocking the Mord'Sith back and darted off to practically jump a man to confess him. She heard Ogre making a commotion, but her world condensed as her power flooded through her. Kahlan rolled off of him just in time to deflect a man's attack, but she fell backward, not quite recovered from the Confession. Her new ally moved to defend her. What Ogre lacked in mobility, he made up for in brute strength. Kahlan noted at least five bodies on account of the man as she rushed a slaver, the both of them trying to find an opening. Really, Cara could arrive any second now, no reason to delay.

Kahlan heard the distinct whine of an agiel and felt dread as her newest ally fell dead. She parried with Trianna, ducking the stray swing of a sword and running through a break in the men after Ogre did something she hadn't seen.

"Come back, Confessor!"

No thank you. Kahlan managed another Confession and thought she heard chanting. She wasn't sure. She continued her fight, having brief meetings with a determined Trianna. After another, harder and longer Confession, her reflexes weren't what they should be. She was draining herself, not even sure which man was on her side apart from a very bloody Ogre and judging from his swings, he wasn't going to last long at all. She struck at a flash of red, but it was deflected and she found green eyes. Kahlan grinned, some vigor returning to her. Cara lingered only to smirk before disappearing to fight.

The chanting grew, undeniable now, and it distracted a man long enough for Kahlan to run him through. She looked, finding Elysan to be the source of the noise and it stopped a heartbeat later. He waved at her before disappearing. Anger blossomed in her chest. A new opponent took up the Confessor's attention, but she could hear bars rattling and the unmistakable shearing of metal. Only a scream broke out over the calamity in the cavern and Kahlan caught a glimpse of Cara standing over a dead Trianna.

Kahlan had no allies.

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><p><strong>AN:** DUN DUN DUN. Gosh I really hope this is what it should be. I'm ready to crack my head on a wall. I wonder if you guys caught some hints I dropped. If you didn't catch all of them, well, we don't have a full cast yet. Not even close. Another hint, I feel like Cara's confession is innocence and Kahlan's is sin.

I forgot what else I was going to say. So, until next time :D

Oh! I remember. I reworked the first three chapters so they're not as dull, but I'd slap past me if I could. And a couple of tweaks in four through six.


	8. Motive

**A/N:** What's that? An update so soon? At four in the morning? I just decided to throw one out whenever I possibly can. And so here we are! At this drastically precarious place...

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><p>Desperation took over her swings, mingling with her anger and the two tried to kill the tired ache settling into her. Dread decided to have its fun with her, too. The cavern shook and men screamed but Kahlan didn't realize why until she saw a <em>thing<em> pounce on a slaver not too far from her and her current enemy. It took up his attention and she took the opportunity to kill him. She saw it then, actually saw it. The creature's skin was sunken in and sickly pale, but worst of all, it looked like it might've been human once.

Something crashed into Kahlan and she screamed, trying to stab it even as she fell. Her body hit the ground in time for her to see one of the creatures fly past her, screeching as it went. The weight on her left. Even as she tried to rise, a hand hauled her to her feet, shoving her.

"Move, Confessor!"

She stumbled over a corpse in dodging a falling piece of the cavern. One of the creatures abandoned its feeding to crawl toward her. Kahlan gripped her remaining dagger, ready to fight for her life, but when it advanced, a familiar sword cut into it. She looked to see Cara deliver the killing blow. Kahlan flung her dagger and a newly dead creature skidded into the Mord'Sith, knocking her over. She wrenched the blade from it and surged to her feet. Green found blue.

Kahlan bolted for the tunnel, knowing Cara was right behind her. The place shook so violently she toppled forward, but she just half crawled, half ran. On her feet again, she practically crashed through the tunnel, grit falling into her eyes. Over the sound of everything, she could hear screeching.

A section of ceiling fell and Kahlan barely made it over the rolling heap. She risked a glance to see that Cara wasn't as fortunate and pulled the woman to her feet. They could hear a high, pained noise behind them and moved faster. The two broke into the first cavern, running faster now that they were free of the winding tunnel. Kahlan just about fell when Cara yanked her arm, putting her on a new course. A portion of the ceiling shattered behind them. Kahlan took the lead again in the opening tunnel, not slowing when she saw sunlight filtering through the waterfall. She burst through it, momentarily blinded by the brightness before falling into the small lake. Kahlan surfaced in time to see the Mord'Sith plummet into the water.

And her heart did the same thing. Plummeted, and cold dread followed in its wake. Because for what reason would the Mord'Sith not attempt to kill her? Sure, she'd helped her out the cavern—saved her life yet again—but she'd always said she wanted to kill Kahlan herself. Her breath caught when Cara surfaced. It was the second—or third?—time she realized. The Mord'Sith was having trouble staying above water and attempting to sheathe the sword, it seemed. It seemed unreasonable at first, but then Kahlan remembered. The injured shoulder she'd probably worked to death in the past two days, something any Mord'Sith would have exploited and she was sure Trianna had taken advantage of it. Never mind that she wasn't sure if she'd managed to actually strike the woman when she swung out with her dagger. The fall in the tunnel. Kahlan could just let the Mord'Sith drown. The Mother Confessor could not risk her life for a Mord'Sith that may—logically—only kill her.

Cara dipped under again.

Unbidden and so sudden it froze her until she went under, something deep inside of her called to a memory, pressing it against her, burning into her very being. Kahlan remembered those eyes, reflecting the madness she felt inside.

She urged her tired limbs, her mind on nothing but getting the both of them out the water, regardless of whatever may happen afterward. It was as far from logical as she could get, but it made a perfect sense. By the time she reached the Mord'Sith, she was surfacing, having successfully sheathed the sword. Blonde hair somewhat in her face, Cara looked less than pleased to see her, but Kahlan didn't falter. "Give me—"

Cara moved sharply, something glinting in the sunlight, and Kahlan flailed, splashing water around the both of them as she grabbed the blonde's wrist. It was then she realized Cara was trying to return her dagger. She took it from the gloved hand and awkwardly dipped underwater to sheathe it and barely managed to surface, only to slip under again. Something gripped part of her arm so fiercely she felt the previously sealed wound open and she gasped, taking in water. Kahlan was jerked above water, spluttering.

"Don't die on me now, Confessor. You'd be rather boring if you did."

"I won't if, if you don't." She coughed again, and dug her fingers into Cara's shoulder as something hard triggered pain in her ribs.

"Faster we get ashore, faster the sword won't be in your side," Cara hissed in her ear.

Sure enough, it was the Sword of Truth that caused her pain, and she realized she'd caused Cara's. She shifted her hold so her arm was around the blonde's neck.

"Ready?"

Kahlan felt Cara's hand abandon its grip on her corset to slide across her back, pulling their bodies together. She shivered. She couldn't think of a time she'd been this close to someone to save her life, and Kahlan could feel the warmth of Cara, but she was still tired, injured, cold and wet so her reaction to a touch she wasn't acquainted with was to be expected. Fingers settled on her hip soundly, disrupting her thoughts. "I don't think I can do it myself." She winced, unsure why she blurted it like that.

"You think I'm holding you for fun?"

The Confessor would bet her life Cara rolled her eyes, but she didn't turn her head the scant inches that would bring them face to face. Pressed close like this, holding each other so close Kahlan could feel Cara's heart beating—or was it hers?—they were inevitably keeping each other above the surface. But she wasn't sure why she expected Cara to shove her away the moment neither of them were drowning because they both needed each other.

Oh, right. Because they didn't need each other, they—

Her body jerked from Cara's sudden effort in getting them toward shore, muttering something about foolishness. Kahlan contributed in their slow, awkward swim and focused on nothing but it since the feel of the Mord'Sith against her was so damned warm and she'd already gotten lost in her thoughts to the point of Cara having to take her from them. Again. So, they swam, Kahlan having an increasingly hard time holding onto Cara until the blonde's arm pulled them impossibly closer, almost painfully so.

"Hold on tight, Confessor." Even with the strain they were under, Cara's voice was pitched low, directly in her ear. "I might just show you how I hold someone for fun." She laughed, ragged but suggestive.

Not only was Kahlan too tired to care about the sexual remark beyond a small blush—which could've been from exertion for all anyone knew, disregarding her small measure of experience—and a barely there chuckle. The Mord'Sith's attitude was, in some strange way, kind of comforting. It was steadfast, even in such an impossible situation. But as the woman grunted, something rang through Kahlan's mind, finally having meaning.

_You can only share your pain with certain people._

The extent of its significance, its actual essence, it stood just out of her reach for now, and she knew it. She could figure it out later. Kahlan settled for a better grip on Cara, feeling the woman's fingers dig into her hip in return. "Harder, I won't break." If it weren't for the fact she'd practically whispered in the blonde's ear, she could've hoped her comment wasn't heard over their efforts at swimming. Kahlan didn't know what possessed her to say something so ambiguously, but she felt Cara's laughter and tried for a grin in spite of herself, though it turned into more of a grimace. Cara squeezed, fingers tightening to the point of eliciting a hiss, answering the brunette's dare with one of her own. Kahlan fumbled a moment, then her hand slipped under the neck of Cara's leathers so she could dig her nails into the actual skin of the woman's shoulder. Distantly, she wondered how the Mord'Sith could be so soft, but focused on the pain she felt at her hip as they swam, finally in some odd rhythm.

When they were able to stand in the water, they still clung to each other, to Kahlan's mild surprise, keeping each other upright as the stumbled onto land. Kahlan was surprised, however, when her warm pillar of support suddenly vanished. She stood upright for a moment, then, deciding standing was stupid and evil and unnecessary, Kahlan all but threw herself down, her world spinning until she gazed up at a blue sky. She more so heard Cara fall into a sit beside her than saw it.

"We're sharing colors."

Sharing colors. Maybe the Mord'Sith had lost her mind. Kahlan raised up enough to rest on her elbows, favoring one when pain shot through her arm, and saw that Cara had the same thought about her mental state. It was kind of cute, her tired mind registered, the way Cara's eyes crossed as if she were trying to look at her brain and accuse it of being stupid. Without a single thought to it, Kahlan poked her nose. The answering glare was enough to make her laugh and she didn't much care that Cara slapped her hand away hard enough that when she moved it, her wrist popped. She expected as much. Besides, getting under the woman's skin was growing to be a great pastime for her. At last, she sat up. "What colors?"

Cara drew an agiel, noticing the Confessor didn't seem the least bit concerned about it—she didn't know how to feel about that, which was troublesome on its own—and used it to point at the woman's shoulder.

Kahlan looked down, finding her white dress to be stained with blood. Some of it obviously came from the wound Cara had sealed up earlier, and Kahlan couldn't miss the irony of it being torn open by Cara in helping her, but she had the feeling not all of the blood was her own. Her gaze shifted in time to see Cara turning the agiel on herself to cauterize a cut at her shoulder that seeped blood. So she _had_ managed to cut Cara. Well. It seemed they were both in less than perfect condition. Kahlan felt eyes on her, coming back from her musing. Cara was looking at her expectantly, hand held out. "What?"

The agiel hummed as Cara drew a small circle in the air toward Kahlan's arm. Her wound. Kahlan sighed, and took to glaring at Cara for smirking. "You're enjoying this, aren't you?"

"You're not?"

She opened her mouth to say no, she definitely was not enjoying herself, but couldn't find the words. So she said the only thing she could. "Why?" Confessors couldn't read Mord'Sith, but as blue eyes studied Cara, the belief that the woman's brow was furrowed in thought, not confusion, grew until she was entirely sure of it. As the sounds of the waterfall and humming agiel carried on while the woman remained silent, Kahlan thought to say something, but her lips only parted in a hiss as the agiel sang against her arm again. She latched onto Cara's outstretched hand until her vision went black.

Cara dropped the limp hand and glared at Kahlan as if it'd help her decide to forcibly wake the Confessor or not. She huffed. It was her own fault, honestly, and she figured if it weren't for the woman's current state, she would've stayed conscious. But Cara had done more than was necessary for the wound, been careless, came close enough to knocking herself out it was worth chastising herself. It didn't matter that she was on the verge of pushing herself in terms of her endurance, didn't matter she was bothered by the woman's question. Cara sheathed her agiel and unbuckled the sword from around her waist, setting it across her lap as she took in the area once more. She stared at the unconscious Confessor, head tilted.

* * *

><p>Berdine rolled her shoulders as she made her way down the hall of the Temple. Given her gait, anyone would think her on a mission. In a way, she was. A Mord'Sith's life was a mission. No more, no less. No more. No less. Disgust rose in the form of bile in her throat and she flexed her fingers, thinking of returning to the training room and promptly dismissing the thought even as it came to her. It would fail her. Almost everything failed her when she was like this. Almost. And just like that, as if the Creator herself decided to answer and deny her unknown prayer, her terrible salvation turned into the same hallway. Berdine forgot the possible danger, forgot her troubles, forgot herself as her eyes took in the shorter Mord'Sith with fleeting but thorough touches for a stilled eternity.<p>

And it shattered before the woman fully strode past her.

Berdine swallowed thickly and registered a familiar taste in her mouth—blood—at the same time she realized she'd stopped walking entirely. She released her tongue from the hold her teeth had, but didn't resume walking. If she did, she might turn, go after the Mord'Sith though she didn't know what she'd do, what she could do. A terrible smile pulled at Berdine's lips. Mord'Sith did not ease pain, they created it, bred it, nurtured it. Hate overrode her disgust, gripping her heart and mingling with her blood to fill not just her body, but her soul. Her soul. As if she had one. But that was it exactly, the one thing that made her entertain the absurd possibility that maybe, just maybe a Mord'Sith could be something other than she'd been taught—maybe a Mord'Sith could have a soul instead of a well of nothing but hate—that one thing walked past her without a single glance. But Berdine understood why dark eyes had been too focused ahead of her, jaw too tight, stride too purposeful in spite of an odd, pained sway to it.

Raina was angry, seething hatred, but she was also ashamed.

She didn't want Berdine to see her weakness. But again, there was more. Raina stood between two worlds and not only hated when they met, but hated them simply for existing. She hated the world that involved Berdine. She hated the world that involved her mistress. And Berdine suspected Raina hated herself, perceiving the very notion of having two worlds as foolish, as a weakness. How could she not? Mord'Sith had one world.

Or so they were told. Berdine never believed it, not when she held no true rank yet held Darken Rahl's ear—which stirred odd feelings in her because if she hadn't kept something to herself, the bastard might still be alive—not when she was valued for the same thing that caused her ridicule, not when she knew only hate yet wanted to ease someone's pain. Berdine's doubts had been cemented the day Raina kissed her without lust or power or violence. That day, she smiled at Cara, and the woman gawked at her, beat her, tried to train it out of her, all the while instilling the supposed fact that Mord'Sith had one world. But Berdine recognized the look in Cara's eyes that morning. Fear. Berdine had spent so much time analyzing the root of Cara's fear, wondering if—

A stinging slap across her face ripped apart her thoughts. Berdine took in a deep breath, let it out. She turned her head, finding hollow green eyes lit by hate burning into her. Berdine gathered that the woman had thrown a taunt or two her way and hadn't appreciated the fact her words went unnoticed, but Berdine gave her no satisfaction, her face plain as if they talked about the air outside. "Are you in need of something, Adriane?"

The redhead offered a cold, malicious smile with her thin lips. "I think you're misguided. In need of training."

Berdine knew a small crowd was gathering, waiting to see if there would be a shift in power, waiting to see their Sisters fight, waiting to place bets, waiting to see blood spill. But she didn't look. Just cocked her head, eyebrows raised in honest curiosity. "And from what path have I deviated?"

Adriane faltered, obviously thrown off by the direction of things, but the snickers passing through the crowd spurred her. "You're no Mord'Sith."

Silence. It was pure challenge, the one thing any Mord'Sith would not leave unattended, would not let pass. It was to be met with vehement rage and instant violence. Berdine's terrible smile returned a moment before she laughed, unknowingly shocking everyone because she was too caught up in the fact Adriane thought her anger was something. It was as dangerous as a leaf miles away compared to the rage inside of her, and her laughter stopped the moment she struck Adriane's shoulder so hard she spun.

The woman lashed out, trying to recover, but Berdine didn't pay it any mind. She grabbed Adriane's braid and jerked to her right, hard. Adriane's head slammed into the stone wall. She slid down limply. Berdine stepped over the woman, not bothering to see if she was simply unconscious or dead, and gave that terrible smile to the Mord'Sith watching, gave them that smile that was more so for herself than them, but they'd never know it. It'd never occur to them, especially not when they were in shock.

Berdine never looked back, just kept walking, set on going to her rooms because if she went anywhere else, she didn't know what she would do. She'd never really been physical about the ridicule Adriane took pride in giving, took as her natural right because their great Lord Rahl felt it was amusing. But today she fell to the level of someone she hated, today she fell into the madness she hated, and in turn, she hated herself.

Eventually, she found herself closing her door, standing in the middle of her chambers. But it was strange, blurred. She rubbed one of her eyes, blinked down at her gloved hand. It was wet. Berdine stared down at it, trying not to comprehend herself, trying not to comprehend what she could see, trying not to comprehend the familiar feeling of _breaking_. Her hand fell limply by her side after a time, unable to stand the sight of the dried moisture mixed with dried blood. Even if someone held her hand to their eyes, they wouldn't see it. But she could.

Knocking stirred the brunette. Mutely, both inside and out, she opened the door.

"Ah, there you are," came Denna's smooth voice, complete with a smile signifying nothing. She breezed into the room as if it were her own and settled on the bed, crossing her legs and resting her hands on a knee.

Berdine took a breath, shook herself. She couldn't be this way, not when the blonde wanted something. She shut the door to her room as she shut the door on her troubles. "What brings you here, Sister?"

Her eyes flicked down, taking in the compliment. She knew how the brunette felt about Mord'Sith, even if the woman never directly voiced it, knew Berdine called select Mord'Sith by the title "Sister." Denna's gaze travelled to find piercing blue eyes analyzing her, but out of an inquisitive nature rather than a suspicious one. "Adriane's causing a stir, trying to reassert her power."

"She is rather hardheaded."

Now Denna's smile held amusement. "Yes, and the Breath of Life allowed her to remind us of that endearing quality she holds."

So she had killed her. Berdine gave a small smile, but it had everything to do with Denna and nothing to do with Adriane. She always enjoyed the dance that was their conversations. "I'm sure she'll look to remind me in particular."

"Naturally, but not for some time."

"Time seems to be in abundance these days." Berdine saw the blonde's smile widen ever so slightly in a way many would've missed. "Tell me, how does someone such as yourself spend their excess of time with no supervision?"

The smile left. "Come, sit." She patted the bed beside her for emphasis, and didn't continue until Berdine sat beside her. Blue eyes looked into a different shade of blue purposefully. "I spend my time productively."

Berdine stared, wondering if this was a "thank you," wondering if the woman knew about the information she'd held, costing Darken Rahl's life. Denna knew just about everything. "I suspected as much."

Denna tilted her head, thinking a moment. "Am I obvious?"

"To whom?"

Denna gave a nod. "A valid question."

"One you provided no answer for."

"If only you would answer mine, Berdine."

"Ah, but you never answered my first question."

Denna laughed. "So I haven't. Show me yours, I'll show you mine."

"What do I have to lose?"

"You have everything to gain."

"Then you must gain the world."

The blonde uncrossed her legs and laid back to stretch. "If only a girl could."

"I'd be surprised if your ambitions were anything but."

"But what does a girl have if she owns the world and has no soul?"

Berdine held up her hands. "If we don't stop now, we'll be here well into tomorrow."

"Business before pleasure." She sat up. "I have a proposition for you."

"I have ears."

Denna allowed a smile, then settled back into her serious air. "Dahlia's been… unsettled and—"

"That's quite the euphemism."

She gave Berdine a look, but continued, "Instead of Cara simply not writing to her, since she has no idea Dahlia even keeps track of her, there's been nothing in the journey book from that Temple."

Berdine's eyes wandered around the room. She knew Denna would expect nothing less than for her to think about it, so she took the time. Then, "Just what have you been up to lately?"

"An idea."

"I bet Dahlia's dying to know where Cara is. If she's even alive." The thought troubled her, she found. She pushed it away. No time for it. "But she doesn't have enough power to go herself or get someone to."

"She is, she doesn't."

Berdine's blue eyes pierced Denna all of a sudden. "That's it, isn't it? Information?"

"My idea requires allies."

"Dahlia would be grateful to the one that told her of Cara. Be indebted to them. Or possibly hate them, depending on the news."

"I can deal with hate."

Berdine released Denna from her gaze. "But tempered hate, complemented with respect and loyalty. Unlike what you'd find if you went around breaking Mord'Sith."

"Precisely. I have no desire for someone at my side aspiring to agiel my head when it best suits them."

"Better to have a few you can turn your back to rather than a hundred you can't be within a league of without looking out for betrayal." She wondered if it were even possible with Mord'Sith. They hated each other on principle. Usually.

Denna nodded and they settled into silence until Berdine broke it.

"You never told me your proposition."

"I'd like a pair of Mord'Sith to investigate and tell me what they learn."

Berdine chewed the inside of her cheek. "With whom would I travel?"

Denna didn't respond immediately. "You do nothing about Raina's mistress because you wouldn't give someone the chance to say 'yes' if they couldn't say 'no.'" She stared at Berdine until blue eyes met. "A wise outlook."

"And yet?"

"And yet a person needs the opportunity to give either answer."

"You don't want me to go, do you?" She eyed Denna's smile. "Just what is your plan?"

"Grace will—"

"Because Dahlia controls her out of some twisted desire to hold onto Cara and will feel comforted by the knowledge of someone—"

"Yes, yes," Denna huffed. "And Raina will go as well."

Her brow furrowed. "That's a why I can't figure out."

"I'll take care of it."

"Naturally. But tell me, what am I actually doing?"

Denna rose, smiling over her shoulder as she reached the door. "You? You're going to give Raina the opportunity to decide."

Berdine gaped at her even as she left, then gaped at the closed door. She jumped to her feet, ready to sprint after Denna. She wrenched open her door, only to be face to face with the woman. She was still smiling, and she placed a finger on Berdine's lips.

"It will be better if you're surprised."

Denna walked away.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** I was supposed to check in on Zedd, but next thing I knew, I was typing Berdine's name. I always wanted Denna to have more screen time and I think Berdine and Raina are adorable. But I assure you, I've thought everything through and they add to the story instead of take away, so I hope you guys aren't put off by the entrance of more Mord'Sith.

Boy this one was tough. I hope you guys enjoyed it.

At least I know everything that goes on next chapter. So, see you soon! Wait, did anyone catch the Oscar Wilde reference I made? No...? Denna said it.. Oh well.


	9. Players on a Stage

**A/N: ** Okay so this is a couple hours later than I wanted it to be, which is because I was playing Mass Effect. Oops. This chapter (which I'm 90% sure is correct) is a large setup for something I'm going to enjoy. A lot. Intense stuff to come.

Side note: I look at the profile of everyone that reviews, favorites and alerts, and thanks to you guys, I adore Rizzoli and Isles. Except I don't have the time to watch it. Thanks guys. And a startling amount of you like Once Upon A Time. And Glee. A startling amount. And holy fuck, 70 alerts as of right now and all the reviews and favorites, just, it's great having you guys. Onto the story.

* * *

><p>Zedd hadn't made a fuss at that damned cavern and still hadn't. People don't pay attention to calm things when they're in the middle of demanding chaos. Even as he forced himself to hurry along, Zedd reminded himself not to reach into his sleeve, regardless of how much he wanted to check on the item stored away in one of the secret pockets there. The less than dozen slavers were more attentive in regards to the Seeker, but Zedd didn't want to draw more attention to himself and give away his only advantage, however small it was. Besides everyone just thinking of him as a frail old man with a Rada'Han around his neck—he liked to think he was more—he had the little stone he'd grabbed when Richard caused the scuffle in the cavern and though it was devoid of magic, it posed a small source of hope, even if he didn't know what he'd do with it yet. And Kahlan. In the midst of all the chaos, he saw something so strange he would've accused a person of being spelled or lying if they told him about it. A blonde Mord'Sith wielding the Sword of Truth saved Kahlan's life and the Confessor returned the favor. He couldn't fathom the why, but it was another reason to have hope. If they made it out the cavern and hadn't killed each other. As impossible and absurd as it was, a Wizard of the First Order's hope mostly stood with the Mother Confessor and a Mord'Sith.<p>

In all his years, he never would've thought to consider it. It was mad.

Elysan yelled something at Richard for whatever he'd said and stopped to backhand him, fury in both their eyes, then stomped along. The young wizard didn't much care for physical work and this mad rushing about certainly didn't sit well with him, so Zedd was relieved when he set a slower pace. His poor old lungs and bones and heart. Poor old him.

"Finally," muttered one of the men.

"What was that?" Elysan whirled around. "Did you want to fight one of my creatures if they managed to escape?"

"You said they weren't fixin' to get out."

"And what if they did? Hmm?"

"What about the Confessor," cut in another man.

Elysan waved a dismissive hand as he laughed. "With slavers, my creatures and that Mord'Sith that stalked her there? In a collapsing cave?"

They traded some dialogue, mostly Elysan exerting his authority, but Zedd just rested on a rock, relieved in more ways than one. Elysan not only thought Kahlan dead, but had no idea that she and said Mord'Sith had some sort of agreement. At least, Zedd hoped so. The more he thought about it, the more it seemed plausible—aside from however it came about—that it was planned. Kahlan and her confessed ally come in, stir up trouble, Mord'Sith breezes in the middle of chaos. Because what sane person would think the two wouldn't kill each other, simply for existing, if nothing else? Much less think them working together? Elysan conceded to a short break, mostly for himself since he was breathing as hard as the elder wizard—really, at least Zedd was fit in his youth—and Zedd sagged against the rock as if it were a comfortable bed. A man could dream. But not Zedd, his mind still swirled with thoughts of Kahlan and the Mord'Sith, and something settled in his mind, applying itself in varying degrees to the situation.

_Mind what people do, not only what they say, for deeds will betray a lie._

Wizard's fifth rule, of course. He supposed deeds could betray truth as well as lies, but that was an odd thought. Betraying truth. If one betrayed lies, were they, at the same time, betraying truth? And vice versa? He shook his head. He could think about it later. He saw Richard come over, under the watch of a slaver, and almost smiled instinctively, but there was something in the young man's face.

"Did you see what happened to my sword?"

Zedd frowned, not really having to pretend to think because he was. Richard hadn't come to see how he was and while the sword was a valid concern, Zedd noted the almost righteous and dreadfully wronged air the Seeker had. It was very… Rahl. "Afraid not, my boy. Last I saw, that Mord'Sith had it."

Richard stared at him, studied him. Then, "We'll find it even if we have to get a town to dig out the cave." He nodded and sat beside Zedd. "Did you see the Mord'Sith die?"

"No, but I don't know how anyone could've made it out there. Dreadful thing, it was."

Thankfully, Elysan demanded they get going again. Zedd couldn't think of a time he'd been happy not to talk with Richard, but that's how he felt, going so far as to move slow enough that Richard wound up a little ahead of him instead of beside him. Richard didn't notice. Zedd finally released a sigh, grateful for his wording. He hadn't lied, so the Seeker of Truth hadn't seen the lie. He didn't specify a Mord'Sith, he didn't know what happened to the sword, and he didn't know how anyone could get out of there. But Kahlan wasn't anyone, and he imagined that for a Mord'Sith to side with the Mother Confessor, she wasn't just anyone, either. Kahlan. Richard hadn't even asked about Kahlan, his supposed love. Zedd didn't know what was wrong with the boy, and tried not to think on it for the time being. But sometimes, his thoughts wandered. The anger, the possessiveness, the pride. He tried not to think about it.

And, of course, Zedd thought about it. But he tossed it aside, focusing on the main issue. Elysan was thoughtful and persistent, so Zedd knew they were heading off to get horses and, given the young wizard's abhorrent work in the cavern, settle near another tear in the veil. Zedd didn't entirely know the man's intentions, but they had a lot to do with the Underworld. He also knew Elysan was disturbingly strong in his magic and methodical, but the man was arrogant and perhaps more importantly, he underestimated his enemies.

Those with magic relied too heavily on it, and Zedd would teach this Elysan that lesson.

* * *

><p>Cara hefted the Confessor's pack and walked, mostly occupied in her mind. She had been for a while, content to let the Confessor remain unconscious so she could be alone with herself. Sort herself out. She was no closer to understanding her answers than before, but maybe that was because she kept casting them aside. Cara sighed, finally coming to stand beside Kahlan. She'd somewhat dragged the woman further from the lake so she was under the cover of a tree. If anyone had been around to see it, Cara would've killed them. Maybe she'd feel better if she did, but, of course, she didn't get to kill anyone. A pity, but that didn't mean she couldn't have some fun. Cara held the pack over the woman's midsection, made no effort to hide the traces of amusement on her face, and dropped it.<p>

Kahlan instinctively grabbed it as she jolted up with something between a wheeze and a cough, looking at the pack in her hands and up to Cara with some confusion in her eyes. As Cara's smirk grew, Kahlan's mind cleared. "I don't even know what to say to you right now."

"Great. Don't say anything."

"How long was I asleep?"

Cara crossed her arms as her hips canted out to one side. "I thought you didn't know what to say, Confessor."

"I thought it'd be more considerate to move through things one at a time." She shrugged, as if Cara asked to be punched in the face and she couldn't do anything but comply. "Was there any trouble while I slept? Thanks for bringing my things, that was nice of you. Yes, I said nice, don't glare at me, it's your own fault. Speaking of nice," she paused to look around, "Did you carry me here? How nice of you." She smiled happily, looking directly into the Mord'Sith's eyes.

Cara glared down at Kahlan, making a conscious effort to stop her eye from twitching, and clenched and unclenched her jaw. She stormed off a few feet just to whip around and make her way back to the still-smiling Confessor. "I should kill you." With a huff, she stomped off to the edge of the lake, arms crossed and hip cocked out.

Kahlan couldn't suppress her giggles any longer and laid back, stretching and taking in her aches. She felt a touch better thanks to her involuntary nap, but her body was still deeply upset with her. With a sigh, she slowly rose up and staved off her momentary dizziness, not bothering to collect her things as she wandered beside Cara. They stood in silence, looking over the water until Kahlan's eyes settled on the waterfall itself. "You never said why."

Cara didn't move for a few heartbeats. Then she removed the sword from her hips and held it out to her right.

The Confessor glanced at the sword between them, and her eyes flicked to take in Cara. She'd shifted while Kahlan wasn't paying attention. Straightened, tensed. Green eyes focused directly ahead of her. Movement drew Kahlan back to the sword as Cara shook it slightly. Finally, Kahlan accepted it, eyes falling on the blade as she pulled it from its home. Richard's sword, but no Richard.

Cara's voice broke into her thoughts, quiet and sure, although Kahlan could hear hesitation underlying her tone, as if she were presenting a question. "I got what I wanted, but the same can't be said for you, Confessor."

It should have reassured her, at least to some degree, but it only troubled her. She didn't get what she wanted. Standing here with the closest she'd get to a promise on finding Richard, she felt more so burdened than relieved, so what _did_ she want? Her internal deliberation must have showed outwardly because, feeling eyes on her, Kahlan looked up to find Cara observing her. The woman huffed.

"Your wizard is included." Still Kahlan said nothing. Just stared at her, eyebrows drawn together and the sword forgotten in her hands. It went on long enough for Cara to cross her arms. "Out with it or get moving."

"You're deeply honorable, aren't you?"

Cara's eyes narrowed. "I am Mord'Sith."

"And what does that mean, I wonder," she murmured, sheathing the sword.

Cara watched Kahlan sling the sword over a shoulder and adjust it, all the while looking as if she suspected the woman had gone mad. "You know what a Mord'Sith is."

"Do I?" She tilted her head. "Do you?"

"Of course," she said immediately. Then she gestured to herself. "I _am _Mord'Sith."

"Not like any I've ever encountered."

Cara clenched her jaw, looking away, fingers absently drumming on an agiel. Finally, her voice came, clear even though it was barely audible. "Do you know what a Confessor is?"

Kahlan could only stand there, tongue heavy with words empty of meaning, as the Mord'Sith brushed past her. The obvious answer didn't feel like much of an answer, never mind that she'd already been feeling wrong lately.

"Lost, Confessor? I can't imagine your mind is a large place."

She whirled around, blinking at Cara for a moment. "I was just thinking the same of you."

The blonde rolled her eyes as she turned and walked off. "I'm afraid I'm too much for your crippled mind."

Kahlan chuckled in spite of herself as she moved to get her pack and follow after Cara. "And I thought Mord'Sith feared nothing. My mistake."

Cara stopped mid-step, turning her head to glare. When Kahlan caught up, she uttered a single, "Tch," as if Kahlan wasn't worth her time, and resumed walking.

As her amusement subsided, Kahlan's mind settled on her introverted thoughts from a few moments ago, with the addition of one word. Lost. That's exactly what she was and she hadn't fully realized it until the Mord'Sith unknowingly pointed it out. She sighed, deciding to focus on the problem at hand. "Since you didn't sleep, I'm guessing you came up with a plan?"

"Of course."

"I trust that I'm not bait this time."

"If only the plan required bait," Cara drawled.

"You'd better hope not. You're bait this time around, remember?"

"I made no such agreement."

"We'll see." Kahlan smiled a little, feeling less burdened and finally taking note of where they were. "Back to the camp?"

"And then the town if you don't die from all your confessing before we get there."

True, using her personal gift so much in such a short span of time had drained her, but she didn't have to admit it. "You're the disadvantage."

Cara snorted. "Whatever you say, Confessor."

Kahlan absently waved away her comment. "I understand our need to resupply and, well," she looked down at herself, "I don't think either of our clothes are in good condition." Blue eyes wandered to Cara's form. The woman had to be incredibly uncomfortable in drenched, skintight leather.

"Confessor, I know I'm attractive, but not even trainees stare as much as you do."

"What!" Kahlan blurted, fighting the blush threatening to take over her. She really had to stop getting lost in her thoughts. "I don't think you're attractive."

"So you've thought about it."

"No!" When Cara turned slightly to raise an eyebrow at her, Kahlan groaned. "I was thinking about our clothes and how uncomfortable you must be."

"I am Mord'Sith," she said simply, returning her gaze to their arbitrary path.

"Sure, sure," Kahlan replied easily, pretending not to notice the glare being aimed at her. "As I was saying, I understand resupplying, never mind that we're not in the best condition, either, but how are we going to track them? It'll take time to find another rift."

"Rift," Cara asked, taking specific care to avoid a large tree root. "Rift as in opening to the Underworld?"

Kahlan stopped. "You hadn't seen any before today?"

Cara paused a few steps ahead of her with a huff. "I've been a bit busy."

"But you know about them." She watched the blonde likely cross her arms, back still to her. "If you know anything that can help—"

"Just the ravings of a fool." Cara started walking again, not bothering to slow as Kahlan caught up to her.

"Anything worth mentioning?"

She didn't respond immediately. "I am not sure."

"Well," Kahlan said, looking up at the treetops, "We've got the time."

"When I am sure."

"I think I need to know."

"When I am sure," Cara repeated, hand falling to her agiel.

She nearly pressed the woman again, but her cold tone and quick gait gave Kahlan pause. Silence encased them, charged and heavy, but Kahlan wouldn't have any of it. "It would take Elysan time to set up again. We could look for disturbances and I'm sure we'd find him." When Cara still said nothing, Kahlan caught her arm, tensing when the Mord'Sith twitched as if to strike. "Perhaps we should talk," she said quietly.

"Are you incapable of talking and walking at the same time?"

Kahlan didn't verbally respond, opting to unceremoniously toss down her pack and sit on it. She stared at Cara with a raised eyebrow.

She huffed, leaning against a tree. "This is unnecessary."

"You're the one wasting time."

Cara glared briefly. "We could just follow Lord Rahl."

"Follow?"

"Yes, using the bond."

"Bond? With the Seeker?"

Cara rolled her eyes and fixed them upward, as if Kahlan asked something utterly stupid. "Yes, Mord'Sith have a bond with the ruling Rahl." Her eyes travelled back down again, her hand gesturing as if this were beneath her. "Aaand he's angry so I can feel it, though it's faint." She snorted. "He doesn't even know he's triggering it. Like a child with a sword," she said, shaking her head, but she stopped abruptly, nearly looking pained before her features became plain again.

It was tempting to ask if the Mord'Sith was alright, but that in itself was cause enough for Kahlan not to do so. But the woman was shutting down, shutting her out, and that somehow made Kahlan feel very alone all of a sudden. "You only feel it when he's angry? Can other Mord'Sith feel it? Can you communicate through the bond?"

Cara looked less than pleased about the rush of questions, but spoke after a moment. "No, it," she huffed. "Is this really necessary? He doesn't yet know what to do with it and like I said, it's faint, so a Mord'Sith could feel it, yes, but only if she were close enough. Are you done?"

"You'll tell me more about this?" Kahlan stood, shouldering her pack and looking to Cara, not really expecting an answer. "Let's get going."

Nothing passed between them as they trekked, neither so much as bothering to ask if the other needed a break. After some time they neared the camp they'd taken over, but still the silence remained and they kept the same pace the whole while, but again, neither mentioned anything. They were both tired, uncomfortable, and had aching bodies, though Kahlan suspected the Mord'Sith would never admit to such a thing and probably bring pain to anyone that suggested it.

"What's funny, Confessor?"

"Hmm?"

There was a slight pause, almost hesitant. "You laughed a few trees ago."

"Trees," Kahlan echoed. "You keep track of things by trees?"

Cara grunted, taking a moment to answer, as if she'd debated it. "You have a better idea right now?"

Kahlan smiled to herself a little. "How many trees ago was it?"

"Because of this pointless conversation, at least thirty trees."

"That's more than a few trees," Kahlan mused.

Cara grunted again, more so irritated this time.

They kept on—for a dozen trees or so according to Cara's method—until Kahlan remembered something. "I never answered your question."

"Can you hear the river?"

"Yes, but I—"

"We're near that camp."

"Yes, yes," Kahlan said irritably. "Don't you want to know why I was laughing?"

"No."

"Then why did you ask?"

"Lapse in judgment," Cara growled.

Spirits, there was nothing in her life so complex as this Mord'Sith. But at least she could remember her place, remember she wasn't supposed to socialize with Confessors. The only socializing between Mord'Sith and Confessors was violent, with no intentions but death of the other. If only Kahlan could remember she was a Confessor. She unconsciously slowed to a stop and gazed down at her hand, wondering if she ever forgot. If she could forget. No, she could never forget, not when it was her essence, not when it was in her touch, not with the way people looked at her.

"Stop that!"

Kahlan looked up, startled, but not by the order—as it clearly was—but more so by the alarmed nature of it. Cara stood a few feet from her, as if she'd originally decided to keep walking without Kahlan, and her arms were crossed while she glared at the trees, jaw visibly clenched. "Excuse me?"

When Cara's eyes fell on Kahlan, she partially grimaced and uncrossed her arms irritably, a hand settling tightly on an agiel even as she gestured with the other, filling the air between them with meaningless circles. "That. Stop _that._" She said it like Kahlan was committing a terrible sin and, looking physically pained, she fixed her gaze on the ground.

Kahlan stared at her, still confused, until she registered an unmistakable wetness collecting at her chin. She brushed it away, realizing she had, in fact, been crying, and that there were still a few tears in her eyes waiting to be shed. Her brow furrowed a moment, then a small smile pulled at her lips, but she schooled her features as she looked back up at Cara. She'd never seen Cara look so distressed. Admittedly, Kahlan hadn't spent much time with her—though, in the sense of Confessor and Mord'Sith, they'd spent a disturbing amount of time together—but she had the distinct impression that Cara didn't get distressed often. If at all.

Apparently the silence and crying and staring was too much for the Mord'Sith because she shifted again, her gaze on the treetops once more. "I'd suggest fighting, but you're too weak for it."

Strangely, Kahlan felt a tiny smile coming over her lips, and hid it away by clearing her throat. "How nice of you." That did it. Green eyes narrowed at her and she had to bite the inside of her cheek from smiling.

"I am not _nice_." She said it as if Kahlan accused her of sprouting wings and singing of the glory of the Creator, advancing on the Confessor the whole while, only stopping when their bodies where scant inches apart. Cara couldn't place the look on Kahlan's face and promptly disregarded it. "I'd have you on your back in seconds."

Kahlan arched an eyebrow as she tilted her head in curiosity. "Here or a little ways away for my comfort?"

Cara jerked, as if slapped, but she composed herself in almost the same instant. "A little ways away, if you count being face down in the river as such."

Kahlan watched her stomp away, pressing a hand against her mouth to fight the giggles threatening to leave her. It didn't take long to catch up to the Mord'Sith and they walked on in comfortable silence. Well, Kahlan felt it was comfortable even though Cara was brooding with a hint of something she couldn't detect, couldn't read. It let her explore her thoughts. By the time they reached the camp they'd taken over, Kahlan had stumbled into troubling lines of thought and was content to let the Mord'Sith pause long enough to grunt something about patrolling and stomp off. It made her smile, which brought her back to her current subject of deliberation.

She fumbled with her thoughts, both tripping over them and trying to keep them from escaping her. Just when she felt the beginnings of understanding, it'd slip away, so she worked backward, thinking on the conversation she'd just had with her current companion. Replaying it again and again, she couldn't help but notice there was no sexuality from the Mord'Sith when she commented on putting Kahlan on her back. She was too focused to feel embarrassment over it, though, because there was something there, something so plain and right _there_ if she could just see it.

A noise worked its way into her awareness and she looked around.

Cara wandered back, her normally fluid movements rigid and her eyes trained on the ground as she stormed across the camp. Admittedly, Kahlan wouldn't have said anyone else was storming around, but the Mord'Sith's steps were usually light and measured, and Cara's current walk was anything but that. Watching Cara draw an agiel as she sat and twirled it, eyes hard and unfocused on the red arcs, Kahlan felt something click in her mind and she held onto the thread of thought leading to it. The Mord'Sith was bothered, so distinctly bothered she couldn't even see the innuendo of her own words. Why. Why held the answer. It blossomed because of Kahlan's little crying session, but it started before that, when Cara started shutting down at the talk of the tear in the veil. No, that wasn't right. Even when they argued about what a Mord'Sith was, Cara held some measure of aloofness.

Something happened between escaping that cavern and Kahlan waking up. She groaned, covering her face.

"What?" Cara asked, as if Kahlan were pacing the camp with hysterical nonsense.

Kahlan mumbled into her hands, "Why?"

And she sat upright all of a sudden. _Why._ She'd asked the Mord'Sith _why_ and then she was unconscious, then the distance. Blue eyes bored into Cara, taking in the way the woman wouldn't even look at her.

It was the answer causing the gap between them.

Cara didn't look at her and Kahlan was grateful for it, finding it easier to avoid looking at the blonde if green eyes weren't on her. Kahlan desperately clung to the silence, tried to transfer it into her mind so she didn't have think on how alone she felt with the rift between them, didn't have to think on how much attention they evidently paid to each other. And when Cara stood shortly, walking off toward the village they'd left earlier, Kahlan glanced at the sky. If they were lucky, they'd reach the place before darkness overcame them, but she wasn't sure good luck would find them. She sighed and, as much as her body protested, Kahlan followed after Cara, straining to focus on the silence instead of anything else. But the silence was so disconcerting her mood weighed heavier and heavier upon her, and Kahlan was sure the sword on her back felt heavier than it should have, pressing against her as if it demanded her attention. A distant part of her mind wondered if the answer was worth knowing.

* * *

><p>Pain was something he'd known well in life. Loved, even. But this pain, this wretched agony, it tore at him, never numbing, only worsening somehow, enveloping him and refusing to let go. Darken Rahl dug his nails into a writhing body, pulling himself along only with the remembrance he once held resolve, resolve the Underworld had burned away. But he had it once, had a reason, and he clung to that notion, even as he continued to crawl, even as he had no direction. He had to keep going. He didn't know how long he'd been crawling over bodies, couldn't tell when it was that he'd stopped, screaming uselessly. It could've been minutes, days, years. Eventually he half-climbed, half-slipped, onto a free piece of jagged rock so cold it burned. He could rest again, just for a little while, or forever for all he knew, and he closed his eyes, not to shut out the ominous green tint of everything, but as a way to convince his traitorous body to obey him.<p>

"Darken Rahl." The voice rumbled, jarring his body and not just echoing around him, but filling him, seeming to come from within his own mind. "I hope you're not going to cry again. I grow weary of waiting for you."

His eyes snapped open. Something inside of him compelled his hands to push him up to his knees, and his unnecessary breath caught in his throat. No more bodies lie before him, but a large, ornate set of doors with roiling green smoke flowing outward. His lips parted in realization and he bent down, touching his forehead to the rock. "My Lord, I've failed you." He didn't recognize his own voice, it sounded tiny and weak, the voice of someone else, someone lesser than him.

"You're exactly where I want you, though I have doubts. I was looking for the great Darken Rahl to serve my purposes, not a meek kitten."

He never would've tolerated such words in his life, but the pain radiating through his body ebbed away to a dull throb, and he found himself breathing like a man who'd been suffocating. Darken rose, standing on his feet for the first time in what felt like a dozen lifetimes.

"You'd do well to remember I hold dominion over all." The Keeper's voice shook him, pain coming to him so suddenly he fell to his knees, gasping, clutching the rock as if it could save him. "I have great plans for you, but I can find another. Someone eager to serve."

The pain stilled, as if waiting for him to reply. "I am eager to serve."

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **Funny how BardWisp and I were just talking about answers and questions. (And see, I said poor Cara because she had to deal with a mildly crying Kahlan.) I feel bad for Darken.

It's almost four am and I can't think straight. I sleepy. Nighty night, I hope you enjoyed the chapter.

NEXT TIME ON GONE FOREVER, A TURN OF EVENTS NO ONE EXPECTED. Except Denna because she knows everything. EYES EVERYWHERE, MAN.


	10. Justice and Mercy

**A/N:** Oops. It's November, not October. I so sorry. I was going to put off updating in December for the sake of getting a chapter ahead but I've abandoned that because of the delay regarding this chapter. I'm going to shut up, I'm sure you've waited long enough for this chapter. But, maybe the gift of two chapters in December. -steps aside so you can read-

* * *

><p>Relieved didn't begin to explain how Kahlan felt upon breaking through the tree line, getting a proper view of the long-dark sky. She'd considered throwing herself on the ground or curling up against a tree to sleep more than once and her body ached so terribly that not even seeing the small town could sway it from its rhythm. Step, step, step; one foot in front of the other. She shifted her pack, altering her course slightly and bumping into Cara in the process. They both stumbled, Cara just grunting in annoyance and nodding when Kahlan half-heartedly pointed toward the inn.<p>

"If someone attacks us, can you just glare them to death?"

"If they're within range."

Kahlan was too tired to laugh, and too grateful to enter the inn. She was, however, thoroughly surprised to see the bartender welcome them with such a warm grin and gesture to some young man. But if that surprised her, his words blew her away.

"My favorite blonde! Come, sit." He ushered them to a table the young man was setting drinks at and, while Cara fell into her chair heavily, he pulled out Kahlan's with a nod. "Mother Confessor."

"Thank you." She said slowly, looking between him and Cara, her gaze lingering as the blonde grabbed the young man's shirt long enough to growl something about food. "I didn't know you knew each other."

"She saved Tommy Boy's life and made such a ruckus those bastards decided we weren't worth the trouble when your man got here with his warning."

Cara paused in the middle of accepting a bowl to stare at the barkeeper curiously, but then she harrumphed and started eating her soup. Kahlan looked down at her own bowl and decided to let it cool a little. "Warning?"

"Yeah," piped in the young man. "Came in saying he spoke for you and you and our friendly blonde here killed Elysan and were comin' on back to deal with them."

"Smart." Cara said between spoonsful, taking a moment to catch his eye. "Not friendly." When his smile faded, she continued eating.

Kahlan tried the soup, giving a brief smile in appreciation before continuing. "I imagine it was more eventful than that."

The bartender nodded, waving the young man away. "There was a small scuffle and a few of them are in Rhan's house, but they've mostly holed up there." His eyes drifted to Cara before settling on Kahlan again. "I'd hoped you'd return before they left to pass _judgment._" The towel was taut in his hands. He wasn't seeing them anymore.

"How many is a few?"

He looked at Cara as if she'd suddenly appeared there, then he noticed her empty bowl, waving to the young man again. "Four."

Kahlan continued eating her soup, curious if Cara was going in a direction she suspected.

Cara leaned back, drumming her fingers on the edge of the table. Then she said, "Four should be easy enough."

"And thorough," he whispered, but he didn't seem to be talking to Kahlan anymore.

Kahlan cleared her throat. "If they've stayed this long and remain ignorant of our being here, we'll get them in the morning and I will pass judgment."

He stared at her for a long moment. "Of course, Mother Confessor."

"Where's the man that came with the warning?"

He picked up her empty bowl, handing it off to the young man, not looking at her once. "He died."

There was something in the way he said it that made Kahlan think the death wasn't an accident or fault of the other slavers. Blue eyes searched his manner, searched for more of what set off her suspicions. They shifted to Cara, discovering the blonde physically there, but mentally elsewhere. Kahlan's attention reverted to the bartender, eyes observant, tone conciliatory. "Forgive me, I should have asked your name earlier."

"Everyone calls me Ave. Now then, let's see what we can do about baths for the two of you."

Kahlan noticed the ghost of a smirk and promptly diverted her attention, expecting a snide comment about being thrown in a river, but it never came. Curiosity brought her gaze back to Cara, feeling an unpleasant shift of her insides upon seeing the slightest evidence of Cara's eyebrows drawing closer in spite of the otherwise blank expression. Kahlan stood abruptly, noticing Cara's eyes didn't track the movement. "I might throw you in the river so I can have a bath first."

Cara's response was automatic, but in an artificial sense. She took a half-second too long to smirk up at Kahlan, too long to gesture toward the stairs in mock politeness, and offered too much silence.

Ave's return stirred Kahlan. She gave him a polite smile as he affected a strained, apologetic one.

"I'm afraid only one of our rooms is fit for use." His smile twisted, became bitter. "Vandalism, because terrorizing us wasn't enough."

"Poor methods." Cara's words held disapproval but her tone, absent.

Kahlan's gaze swept over to the stairs, specifically avoiding Cara. "We're mature enough to make due, I'd hope." In her peripheral vision, she saw his eyebrows shoot up, as if to say maturity had nothing to do with a Confessor and Mord'Sith sharing a room. Her sigh filled the silence. "Can we?"

"Take the room." Cara stood, demanding Ave's attention. "Show me the second best one."

His eyes flicked between the two of them, but he eventually led her up the stairs and Kahlan watched them go. Tiredness weighed heavily upon her, and yet more burdensome was the unjustified apprehension left in Cara's wake. Maybe it was justified—they'd spent an amount of time together and Kahlan needed her to find Richard. So maybe the cold, gnawing feeling inside was justified by the barrier in those green eyes a few moments ago. Mord'Sith couldn't be read by Confessors, obviously, and Cara was a guarded person, but, it was just the barrier. Originally Cara let Kahlan see her pride, her bold and raw nature. She was allowed to see evidence that the Mord'Sith held internal turmoil. She was allowed to see mischief written across her features. And, just once, she was allowed to hear a genuine laugh.

But a few moments ago they weren't the eyes of a Mord'Sith. A few moments ago they weren't the sharp eyes giving glimpses of what could possibly just be the beginning of _Cara._ It wasn't just in the eyes, but the empty smirk, the lack of authority she normally exuded.

It was the utter denial of everything Cara was and might be.

"Mother Confessor?"

She blinked at Ave, realizing it wasn't his first attempt to gain her attention. "Yes?"

"This way," he said slowly, almost making it into a question, and he didn't lead her up the stairs immediately.

Stepping into the room, Kahlan swept a critical eye across it.

"I'm sorry for—"

"The room you showed her."

Ave's mouth clicked shut. From her tone, there was obviously no room for argument and, with intense blue eyes on him, he motioned with his hand before doubling back down the hall. He stopped in front of a door with some lines carved on it, hesitating to look at the Mother Confessor directly. "I, I wish you luck. Your water will be sent to your room."

She nodded to him and stared at the jagged grooves in the wood until Ave's steps down the stairs faded. As she continued tracing the random patterns with her eyes, Kahlan became increasingly aware that her standing there had nothing to do with Ave's presence, or lack of it. This was ridiculous. And she was tired. She swung the door open, pausing at the sight of Cara's back as the woman stared out a window.

"I wondered how long you'd stand out there." Receiving no response, she turned her head slightly. "Hurry up and finish bothering me."

Kahlan entered the room, made no other move. She didn't know how to address the problem, didn't know how to put a name to it, didn't know why it mattered. She only knew there was a problem and it mattered. Spirits, she was so tired and lost in these turns of fate. "Lost," she said softly. The word made Cara turn. Curiosity peeked from behind the barrier in those green eyes, but something Kahlan couldn't place snuck out in curiosity's wake and she found herself continuing without her consent. "You're lost." After a moment, her eyes fell away and she left without another sound besides the creaking of the door behind her.

Kahlan found little solace, instead finding some tired distance from things as she lounged in the first hot bath after too long. It soothed her aching body to some degree and she nearly fell asleep while the water cooled so she shook herself and abandoned the bath, giving into the lure of sleep.

* * *

><p>Darken stood with the massive doors at his back, surveying the mass of writhing bodies. It was quite boring after doing it for however long, the pain of others doing nothing for him as it wasn't caused by him and it was so constant that he felt it lost its meaning. Besides, his own pain was gone—a false kindness from the Keeper. It just meant he could send Darken to his knees whenever he felt so inclined. The thought made his lip curl and he crossed his arms over his bare chest. Here, he was less than a man, and that simply would not do.<p>

"In this, we share something."

Darken gripped his bicep to cover his surprise. The Keeper's habit of suddenly speaking _into_ and _around_ him was still… unnerving. "My Lord?"

"I've spent entire decades doing nothing but watching them. You've basked in the glory of, what was it?"

He knew damn well what they were. Darken unfolded his arms and affected a smile as he turned toward the doors, as if welcoming a friend, though no one was there. "Devotions."

"Devotions." The Keeper's echo of the word held a pretentious smile, as if he thought Darken hilariously stupid. "It is much the same for me. I remember when Panis came along. That was positively delightful. Oh, but forgive me, I digress."

No he didn't. Every word was intended, and the Keeper knew Darken knew it. Darken faced the sea of bodies once more, bile rising in his throat. "There is nothing to forgive."

"You are too kind to me. Allow me to repay you, yes?"

"If it pleases you."

"Then the first of my gifts."

Tingling filled Darken, from bottom to top—all of which he doubted was necessary—and he felt a gentle press against him as though he wore clothes. His gaze fell and he more so saw than felt his nakedness being covered. He swept his red coat out behind him, enjoying the sound of it. Being clothed, or at least having the option of it, made him feel right with himself and he hated it because that was precisely what the Keeper wanted. "Thank you, my Lord."

"Of course. Though, it's not as if I can have you parading about naked while representing me." Almost as soon as Darken absently rubbed one of his knuckles, the Keeper's laughter boomed throughout the Underworld. "This brings me to my second gift, but there is a price, my dear Darken."

Not only did Darken's pointless breathing have a price, but everything was a mockery of him, and neither fact was at all hidden. No, rather, they said, _I own you._ "I'd gladly pay any price."

"And gladly you will. You see, my price is also a gift. I want you to mark your brother for me, which you may do after you use this gift."

Mark Richard. It would be definitely be a pleasure. "Which gift?"

"The gift of an offer."

The press of the Keeper's presence left Darken and it didn't take him long to give an understanding incline of his head. "Banelings. How interesting." This, he could use.

* * *

><p>Wakefulness slammed over the brunette. She buried her face in a pillow and groaned, deciding to deny the existence of the world for a few more minutes. A few minutes that felt too short. She rolled over and squinted out the window long enough to determine it was around noon, causing her to lie there with the simple question of when she'd last come close to sleeping so long. She couldn't remember such a time. Kahlan stretched, taking note of all her aches, and dressed mechanically as she thought of the slavers in that poor person's home. As if sensing the lack of food in its future, her stomach rumbled. The confessions would further drain her, but she'd already slept too long.<p>

And no one had come for her. Kahlan paused in lacing up her dress, a few things from last night connecting with this morning, and she hurried with her dress. Still tugging on a boot, Kahlan burst through the door, taking the stairs two at a time and missing one entirely at the bottom. Not a moment later did she find the eyes of Ave. Everyone else distinctly averted their gaze, but cold blue eyes left Ave to settle on Cara, to silently demand her attention.

The blonde continued with her breakfast in spite of the choked silence. This, now, this was just an inevitability. An interesting one. There was just something inside of this particular Confessor, something the Mord'Sith didn't have words for. But Cara had a strong feeling whatever it was had a lot to do with a brand of madness she'd never seen in anyone. In the unrelenting silence, she at last looked up. As expected, the Mord'Sith found the hard eyes of the Mother Confessor—who managed to give an impressive aura despite her ruffled hair, Cara noticed. Gazes locked, Cara saw a certain swirl of emotion she recognized quite well.

"Mother Confessor," Ave started, as though the weight of her gaze was on him. "The fault is mine. I asked the Mord'Sith to—to deal with those animals."

"The judgment was mine to give." Still she kept her gaze on Cara. It was as if he had never spoken.

"Animals get put down, Confessor."

Kahlan took a step closer, fingers twitching at her side. The lack of challenge in the Mord'Sith's voice felt worse than her defiance, because it made it seem there hadn't been any defiance at all. "Confessors deliver justice."

"Not this time!" Ave cried, slamming a fist on a table. He recoiled even though she seemed to take no notice of him. "I've always hated Mord'Sith, but this one, this one delivered justice last night. Creator help me, I wish she skinned them alive." Ave clenched and unclenched his jaw and stared at nothing as tears escaped his eyes. "Confess me if you have to, but this was the last… the last thing I could do for my daughter."

Kahlan turned in time to see him slump into a chair and she moved, setting a hand on his shoulder. Both her eyes and voice were distant, but still she said, "You have my apologies, more than I can ever convey."

"But?" He asked miserably.

Her hand slid off his shoulder and her eyes drifted to Cara, willing the woman to feel her gaze and look at her. And Cara did. "But the Mord'Sith and I must talk." After a moment, Cara nodded once and stood. Kahlan walked out, not stopping until she'd went around back and past the stables. "You disobeyed me."

"I'm not under your command."

Again with that damned tone, as if she fully understood the situation she'd placed Kahlan in and accepted whatever her decision was. It made something inside of Kahlan twitch, the acceptance. Where was the fight in this woman? "In the Midlands, the Mother Confessor's word is law." She faced the blonde, noticing green eyes weren't entirely veiled as they had been. But the traces of that damned acceptance, the _yielding_. She was glad for the barrier the Mord'Sith had erected because if the woman showed any more of _this,_ Kahlan would punch her in the face out of principle. "You are in the Midlands."

"You are the Mother Confessor."

Kahlan glared, it being the only thing saving her from breathing a sigh of relief at the snide comment. At least, she hoped it was meant that way because the only other possibility was acknowledgment that Kahlan could pass judgment on the Mord'Sith. "As long as the agreement we have is valid, you cannot go around doing things against my expressed will."

"Because your expressed will is law," Cara said slowly. "Perhaps I should convince someone to write down everything you say."

Snide. Definitely snide. "If someone said you were funny, they lied to you."

"No one would dare say such a thing to me, Confessor. Though I see you no longer look torn between confessing me and thanking me."

"Excuse me?"

She regarded Kahlan for a moment. "I did what you could not." She left before a response could be given, or perhaps she knew Kahlan shouldn't give her one.

The tranquil time between afternoon and evening found Kahlan talking with a group of people about plans for getting the town back in working order while Cara mostly milled about who knew where. Having spent the past few hours taking in the state of things, Kahlan and the townspeople had a basic plan.

A blond man that had introduced himself as Darrick and acted as Kahlan's second in command clasped her hands. "Creator bless you, Mother Confessor. You couldn't have come at a better time."

The crash of a chair cut across Kahlan's response as a boy on the threshold of being a man stormed out of the tavern, followed after by a wide-eyed girl.

Kahlan stared at the door, barely hearing Darrick. "Forgive Zen, Mother Confessor. His elder sister was… taken and I fear my words struck him."

It made Kahlan's heart ache. She wanted to go after the boy, but she got the feeling it wouldn't go over well. She couldn't fault him. "And their parents?"

Darrick hesitated. "Mary was all Zen and the little one had."

Kahlan brought a hand to her face. This was why she fought, risked her life, passed up almost any selfish desire she could have. And it still wasn't even close to enough. "I think we've done all we can for today. Tomorrow we start cleaning up. A fresh start."

"Yes, Mother Confessor."

Ave nodded and people murmured their agreement and goodbyes before taking their leave.

Darrick lingered, at last clearing his throat to get Kahlan's attention. "You cannot save everyone."

She smiled bitterly. "I know."

The next morning, Kahlan awoke to a familiar ache in her body, but it was lessened compared to yesterday. She dressed mechanically, noting it was probably a couple hours after dawn, and headed downstairs to fill her complaining stomach.

Ave paused at the sight of her, signaling his assistant, and made an obvious effort to keep from grinning. He failed miserably.

"What?" Kahlan asked sleepily, plopping into a chair.

"Nothing. I just…" He shook his head and laughed before disappearing into the kitchen. He returned with a plate of food for her and sat across from her, still staring. "I'd've never thought I'd see the Mother Confessor looking like she just rolled out of bed." His face softened, oblivious to her blush, and he leaned over the table to smooth out her hair. "You're just a young woman that should be enjoying life."

A powerful urge to cry crashed over Kahlan and she swallowed it back with effort. She didn't know if it was the tender, fatherly gesture or his words, but she chose not to address either of them, forcing a smile onto her face. "These are strange times."

He looked at her, understanding her change of topic and nodded. "Strange. I don't think that's the word for these times. Your Mord'Sith, maybe, but not these times."

Her Mord'Sith.

Ave grimaced in light of her stare. "I'm sorry, Mother Confessor. I, it's just," He stopped to rub his face. "There's just something about that Mord'Sith and something about you. The Mother Confessor and a Mord'Sith, _listening_ to each other. Having _understanding_. It's obvious. I even forget your stations." Still receiving that stare, he paled further. "I didn't mean—"

"It's quite alright," She interrupted with a tight smile. "I understand." Not entirely a lie. "But I haven't heard any explosions and the sun hasn't fallen from the sky so I have to ask when she went to her room last night."

His smile at Kahlan's attempt to lighten the conversation died as he stared at her with a pity she didn't understand. "I don't know, honestly, but she left before dawn." Ave scratched his chin. "But that was after looking in on Tommy Boy."

"Left?" Kahlan echoed.

The bartender blinked at her, realizing the implications of his words. He rapped his knuckles on the table. "Here. Left here."

A long breath whooshed out of Kahlan. She didn't even know she'd stopped breathing. However, she did know the cold feeling ebbing out of her veins. Dread. "You said she checked on Thomas?"

Ave tapped her plate to remind her to eat, only speaking once she picked up her fork. "She asked—"

"Asked?" Kahlan interrupted, though the food in her mouth made it sound like "Assthks."

He openly grinned. "Demanded. I don't think that woman knows how to ask for anything. She demanded to know where he was, looked like she might stomp his face into the ground when he smiled and she called him a damned idiot. Strange Mord'Sith."

"Has she done anything?" Kahlan had no doubts about the man understanding her actual question.

"Besides hide?"

She stopped chewing to stare at him. Swallowed. "Hide?" She said it as though the word were foreign.

"No one's seen her much." Ave heaved his shoulders. "I don't think anyone's reacted to her this way and we've never reacted to a Mord'Sith this way. Never thought of it. Being indebted to a Mord'Sith," he trailed off absently.

Kahlan turned over his words. The way he used them created similarities between the lot of them and Cara, but she had to wonder how much of it was reciprocated by the Mord'Sith. Yet she couldn't fathom the woman hiding away somewhere. She had to be doing something. "Before dawn?"

He took a moment to process the change in conversation. "Yes."

"Any idea where?"

Ave shook his head and went back to serving some of the people straying in or from upstairs.

Kahlan returned to her now cold food, debating between finding out what Cara was up to or helping with the cleanup first. She hadn't seen the blonde since their tense conversation—did Mord'Sith avoid people?—and just the thought left Kahlan's mind jumbled. She promptly decided on helping the town and just disregarding whatever Cara was up to unless someone complained. It's not as if the woman had someone tied up somewhere and was just torturing them for entertainment. She hoped.

Today was going to be a long day, and as if she needed further proof of it, Cara walked in. Except, the Mord'Sith didn't so much as glance in her direction and no one reacted to the woman's presence so Kahlan briefly wondered if she was hallucinating. She pressed her fingers against her eyes.

And nearly poked them out a few minutes later when something thudded onto her table.

"You forgot your Truthful Sword yesterday."

"Sword of Truth," Kahlan corrected absently, staring at it.

"That's what I said."

Kahlan blinked up at Cara, looked at the sword, blinked up at Cara again. "You are absolutely strange."

The Mord'Sith offered a flat stare that suggested she thought little of Kahlan's intelligence. In turning to leave, she nearly walked over someone.

"Sorry, sorry," he blurted, looking away as if that would save him from the venomous glare.

"Darrick, hello."

The pleasant tone was too heavy, so Cara glanced at the Confessor, catching her eyes for a moment before focusing on this "Darrick" person again. She took the smallest step back, smirking when he started breathing again.

Kahlan rubbed one of her temples with a sigh. She wanted Cara to back off, not seem as if she were allowing Darrick to breathe. But Cara let him breathe and Kahlan took her blessings as they came to her. "What is it? I was just about to look for you." As Darrick hesitated, Kahlan finally noticed a stillness settling over the tavern.

He cleared his throat once, twice. "No one's wanted to ask, but we all want to, need to, to know. What—Did they—" He grimaced, giving up on speech due to the gloved hand painfully gripping his bicep.

"They died fighting." Cara released him and stopped in the middle of nodding to the Confessor. There was something in the brunette's face. She strode out the tavern hurriedly, her only destination—somewhere else. Wonder. When was the last time someone looked at her with wonder? Had they ever?

The feeling of being watched pulled Cara back to awareness. She didn't know when she'd stopped walking, but she recognized the building, and the old woman staring at her. The tailor. "What?"

She flinched at Cara's tone and halfway ran inside her shop. The Mord'Sith blinked a moment, then started walking away, but paused to stare curiously when the tailor burst outside with a package and stopped a few feet from her. "I finished the Mother Confessor's corset."

Cara stared.

"I need more time for her white dress. Couldn't get the blood out, started a new one."

"Couldn't you just replace the sleeve?"

The tailor's mouth fell open. "Wha—what kind of barbarian are you?" She seemed oblivious to Cara's raised eyebrow. "This is the Mother Confessor, not some common woman! Replace the sleeve. Hmph."

Why was she having this conversation? "Is she not a woman?"

"And you?" The tailor shot back.

Cara's jaw tightened and a glare stole over her. "I am Mord'Sith," she said woodenly.

"And a woman still! But you demand the best for your leathers. I mended them under your eye and how's that oil, hmm?" She stepped closer and prodded at Cara even as the Mord'Sith slapped her hand away. "Best you'd seen, I wager."

"It is adequate."

She eyed Cara. "Best to use it as a wax, but was in a rush. Slight difference in ingredients. I'll write them for you. Give you some for the road." She nodded sharply, shoving the package into Cara, and walked back into her shop.

Cara sighed heavily. This whole not beating, maiming or killing any of the townspeople thing was really starting to agitate her. She looked at the bundle in her hands, briefly considering opening it. If her leathers were anything to go by—she wouldn't have known they'd been cut and absolutely drenched if she hadn't been wearing them for said abuses—the Confessor's corset had to be in top shape.

"Get in here already!" The tailor called out.

A short while later, Cara quietly walked the woods surrounding the town without purpose. At least, it would seem so. She shifted the small pack over her shoulder, having decided she'd rather hang onto the Confessor's corset in case her suspicions were right. They usually were. She'd felt watched yesterday, and walked a particular area at least three times. Now, she was threading her way back to a path leading to town, eyes constantly checking for life. Cara reached the path and followed it away from the town until she found a number of broken branches. Sure enough, a little way into the trees, she stared into the eyes of an obviously uncomfortable horse. Fortunately it made little noise as she passed and she crept along, following the evidence of her stalker to the man himself, half sitting against a tree, staring beyond it. Cara smirked. He was waiting for her to walk the same as yesterday, from the best spot she'd already picked out.

He turned too late to properly respond, but in time enough that her pack caught him across the face. Sprawled on the ground, he stared up at her through some of his dark hair, rubbing his face. "Is there a body in there?"

Cara hefted the pack, her smile predatory. "Are you volunteering?"

He vigorously shook his head. "Can I stand?"

"Sit." She watched him comply, lips pursed, and crouched when he looked up at her, noticing how his eyes followed her attentively. "You're not a fool."

His mouth opened uselessly, but he settled for bowing his head.

Cara glared at him, fully aware he wasn't the source of her frustration. She hated schemes, and hated being a part of them. But she wasn't stupid, either. She stood, grabbing his hair to make him do the same. "Strip. Now."

He didn't hesitate.

Cara examined him, possibly taking an hour, and a few things she had suspected became apparent. Dahlia had absolutely nothing to do with this. He obviously had clear instructions and intelligence and his Mistress… Well. He was perfectly broken as far as Cara could tell. Completely compliant, but his body was as strong as his mind. And there wasn't a single scar on his body that seemed related to his breaking. Cara only knew two Mord'Sith restrained and dedicated enough to accomplish such a thing. And one of them was, ironically, too uncontrolled to resist marking her handiwork.

Cara started pulling off one of her gloves, raising an eyebrow at his smile. "What?"

"You're as much as my mistress said you would be."

Her eyes narrowed and she dismissed the idea of investigating his scalp. "Open your mouth again."

He gave her a slightly bloody grin before obeying.

Cara kind of liked him. He'd shown her the blood on his teeth to confirm her suspicion and had a particular glint in his eye, even as he continued to stand there naked with his mouth open. He was a perfect pet. Cara rolled her eyes and reached two bare fingers into his mouth, discovering a "D" cut into the roof of it. The question was if she'd gotten it to bleeding when she hit him or if he did it himself, and who kept the cut fresh. She sighed, pulling her glove back on and ignoring the intrigued tilt of his head.

"When my Mistress told me to look for you, I didn't think I'd find you in the company of the Mother Confessor."

Cara's jaw tightened. "Temporary agreement."

"Temporary agreement," he repeated, as if he had to consider her words. "Where is her beloved Seeker?"

"Occupied."

"My Mistress will want details."

She rolled her eyes. "Sometimes Denna has to do things herself." He bowed his head in acknowledgment and she continued, "What does she want?"

"My Mistress wants her desires."

Denna sure knew how to pick them, Cara had to give her that. "What are you supposed to do?"

"Find you, report back." His eyes shined and he stood straighter. "I found you, not that bastard. My Mistress will be pleased… Won't she?"

"I'm sure," Cara said drily, disgusted by his obvious quest for Denna's affections, but it was also funny. "I'd have to kill you to keep you from mentioning the Confessor." It wasn't a question, but she appreciated the fact that he nodded. So many would've lied. Begged. She sighed. "Why is she looking for me?"

He stared at her intently, a thoughtful expression on his face. "What kind of answer would you prefer?'

Cara smelled a scheme. Damn Denna and her schemes. She could keep them. "Any plans for the Confessor?"

"Nope."

"There will be after this," she muttered.

"Doubtlessly."

"So what is it about me?"

He regarded her seriously. "I don't believe anyone knows the extent of that answer yet."

She suppressed the urge to drive her fist into his face. "What does Denna want with me?"

"Perhaps her message will clear that up." He cocked his head toward the end of the sentence, asking permission. He brightened considerably when she sighed heavily. "Find Elias in Ferres Bend, we have much to discuss. Trust no Mord'Sith but us two, soon to be three."

"How helpful," Cara said after a pause. Leave it to Denna to talk in riddles _just_ to piss her off.

"Elias will put you in contact with my Mistress when you're ready. I should go back now." Receiving no objection, he started pulling on his clothes under her watchful eye. What should have been brief darkness as he put his shirt on became total emptiness as a result of Cara's hand slamming his head against the tree once, twice, a third time for good measure.

She looked down at Denna's unconscious pet. "I can't let you go just yet."

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><p><strong>AN: **I had to scrap half of this chapter five or six different times, but it was completely worth it and, boy, is the next chapter crazy. Magic and death and whatnot. I already have some of it written, actually. I do so hope you all remember that I'm not following events as per the show. And we don't even have half the cast yet. LIKE THE DASHING LEO DANE. -laughs-

Hope you enjoyed it. Until next time!

Also, Denna is seriously in everyone's business.

PS. Justice and Mercy by Flyleaf is a great song. Speaking of music, I find it funny I wrote the Darken segment while listening to Slipknot's All Hope Is Gone. Because Darken's situation? Get it? I'm rambling. It's two in the morning.


	11. A Step Into The Dark Wood of Error

**A/N:** LET'S NOT TALK ABOUT BAD THINGS. HOW ABOUT WE JUST PRESS FORWARD. I MISSED YOU. ALLOW ME TO SHOW YOU BY UPDATING.

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><p>Cara sat near the river, just watching the water go by. A glance at the sky told her it was around noon. She'd get food later, hopefully when less people would be at the tavern. Afterward, she'd go back to the tailor, for whatever the woman wanted. Cara didn't much care because she was bored and needed to work off some of her irritation. She could have some fun with Denna's pet, but no, she had a better idea. One that would be much more pleasing in the end. She indulged herself with an amused chuckle. After knocking the man out, she'd asked the tailor if she had rope, and she didn't, but directed Cara to a man who did. Of course, the woman wanted her to come back for whatever reason and the man was wary of her but he seemed happy enough to give her the rope without asking why she wanted it. So, in the end, she'd tied up Denna's pet. Couldn't have her source of pleasure get too comfortable. Cara smiled involuntarily. Denna would learn her lesson.<p>

Footsteps off to her right put Cara on alert, but she didn't move. It wasn't as though someone would approach her. No, few people approached her and even fewer bothered her. And Denna bothered her from leagues away. Not to say the riddle was at all difficult, it was the principle of the matter. _"Trust us two, soon to be three."_ Cara snorted. Denna only trusted Denna, maybe Berdine. And Berdine's foolish obsession with Raina left little mystery about the third Mord'Sith. Cara didn't trust Denna, and Denna was right not to trust her. Yet—

"What is it?"

Cara turned her head at the sound of the stiff voice to find, of all people, the Confessor, standing off a ways with a bucket. Staring. "I could ask you the same." She returned her attention to the river, but heard footsteps coming her way.

"I'm getting fresh water for someone."

"That wasn't an invitation for you to bother me, Confessor."

"She needs to break down a wall. You might enjoy that."

Cara faced the woman to raise an incredulous eyebrow, but stopped. The Confessor stood a small distance away, her posture as distant as her expression. As if waiting for an unknown element in a war. Cara frowned at it all, and then she remembered with a sigh. The Confessor was simply responding to her own behavior, which had been pathetically shifting as of late. Cara almost pulled an agiel to school herself, but decided she could do it later. This, however, needed attending now. She couldn't let dead Confessors cause this. It was absurd and ill-fitting if she and this Confessor were going to follow through with their arrangement. She cleared her throat. "I'm supposed to see the tailor later so I will unfortunately have to miss out on breaking down part of someone's home. Pity."

Kahlan looked at her oddly and didn't say anything, but she didn't leave either.

Cara absently gazed forward again. "I could've been queen by now. If I wanted."

Kahlan snorted and sat with the pack and bucket between them. "I somehow don't think you'd want to be queen of anything."

"No, that's more of your area." She glanced at the bucket before looking at the river thoughtfully. "You'd be good to your people."

Kahlan stared at the Mord'Sith in shock, and made a choked noise in an attempt to say something, though she didn't know what.

Cara tilted her head, still watching the water go by. "Most of your people are soft, though. The D'Haran army is consolidated and continually kept up, but only a fragment of yours is such, the rest is left to do as they please. Training's different, signals are different. If the reports are true, some of your people haven't crossed the Rang'Shada Mountains in more than a generation. Loyalty could've shifted. Unified and trained, the Midlands could conquer D'Hara, but that's not the case." After a moment of silence, she finally looked at Kahlan, mistaking the reason behind the shock and awe on the brunette's face. "Know your enemy," she explained.

Kahlan closed her mouth. Her gaze shifted as her emotions did. "You know more about my army than I do." Her voice dropped. "It doesn't even feel like it's mine." She jumped when Cara cuffed her arm, and openly gawked at her, surprised by the stern look she was getting.

"Don't admit that. You have to own it, and prove you're worth owning it." She nodded once, as if she'd just settled something. "Shouldn't be a problem."

That was definitely a compliment, not like the backhanded one a few minutes ago. Kahlan spoke quietly. "You may not be a queen, but I'd wager you'd do a fine job commanding an army."

Cara smirked. "No one would think to challenge my army."

"How unfortunate." She didn't have to look to know Cara was staring at her in silent question. Kahlan smiled. "The boredom might kill you."

Cara looked genuinely upset by the idea and was entirely oblivious to Kahlan's attempts to suppress her laughter. "That is problematic."

She pressed a finger across her mouth, but couldn't do anything about the amusement in her eyes. "However will you survive?"

"Perhaps I could conquer the Ceruans."

Kahlan's eyebrows drew together as she wracked her brain for the name. It tugged at her memory, and she bit her lip, not rushing because the blonde didn't seem to mind the wait. "Cerua. That's across the ocean. They haven't come here in generations. Why them?"

"Why not?"

Kahlan almost rolled her eyes. "You can't just go conquering people for no reason, Cara."

"Yes, I do believe I can."

"No, you cannot."

Cara huffed. "What are you, my mother?"

"By the Creator, I will drag you away by the ear in front of your entire army if I have to."

"You wouldn't dare."

Kahlan met Cara's hard stare with her own. "By. The. Ear."

"I will literally kick you out of the kingdom."

A smile crossed Kahlan's face, even though she knew the woman was absolutely serious. "Whose kingdom would it be, anyway?"

"I don't know," Cara said glumly. "Lord Rahl would never let anyone else command his army and if Denna ruled—"

"Denna?"

Cara raised an eyebrow at Kahlan's loud interruption. "Yes, she'd have one of her pets command the army, I'm sure." She noticed Kahlan's hard expression and how she flexed her fingers. "Right, she attempted to train your Seeker."

"And get me killed."

"I forget people take that kind of thing personally."

"Personally," Kahlan repeated.

"You know, you two got the better side of things." Cara waved a hand flippantly. "Your love was proven true," she paused, looking as if she smelled decaying bodies, "But Denna was brought back just to face Rahl's wrath."

Kahlan pursed her lips, looking away. When the event was fresh, Kahlan wanted to destroy Denna, and thought it justice. Was suffering Rahl justice?

"I know that expression."

"You can't see my expression."

Cara hummed as if Kahlan said something amusing. "There is more to an expression than the face." She felt Kahlan look at her, but just quirked an eyebrow. "Actually, I think the body is the most honest expression, as much as it lies." She frowned and muttered to herself about how much sense her comment made, but ultimately, she glared at Kahlan, who had been openly staring at her with a bewildered expression. "Don't you have someone waiting on you?"

"What? Oh, oh no." Kahlan stood abruptly, moving to gather water. Laughter erupted behind her and she jerked in such surprise that she dropped the bucket in the river. She spun around, forgetting the bucket because the Mord'Sith was doubled over in her amusement. "What are you laughing about?"

"You." She shook her head, straightening up. A sneer—or perhaps just a perverse grin—lingered on her face. "The great Mother Confessor, worried about taking too long to bring someone water." She shook her head again, composing herself until a smirk remained. "Your bucket's getting away."

It thankfully caught on a small bend not too far away. Kahlan scowled. "It's your fault. You go get it."

Cara actually looked offended. "It's not my fault you're clumsy."

"I am not clumsy!"

"I think you're just afraid you'll fall over a rock the same way you did that log, Confessor."

Kahlan glared at her before snatching up Cara's pack. "I'll be at the tavern, enjoying a hot meal."

Cara watched her stomp off and rolled her eyes. She gathered the bucket and water and walked back toward town, fully assured she or the Confessor would die at each other's hands. It had to be. She felt it the way she felt the gentle wind tugging her hair—undeniable nature.

"You hurt people."

Cara stopped walking, briefly staring at the tavern a few buildings away. She turned, and had to let her gaze drop slightly to look the boy in the eyes and read him with the ease of a Mord'Sith. He was almost a man, but he wouldn't be much of one unless he harvested that fire in his eyes. She tilted her head. He had a chance, given that he flinched under her Mord'Sith stare, but stayed put. She was actually impressed. Barely. Just enough to notice. "I do more than hurt people."

"They're afraid of you."

Cara smirked. "I give them reason."

He faltered.

She frowned. If she gave him what he wanted, it'd get him killed. Not that she cared, just a simple observation. Want and need didn't always align. Not to mention getting him killed went against her agreement with the Confessor, even if it wasn't immediate. The silence stretched. "Act like something's yours and so will others. If they think differently, prove them wrong."

"I'm just a kid!"

"I am Mord'Sith. If someone takes what's mine, I kill them."

There was no further interruption in her walk to the tavern. It was less than half full, and the noise level stuttered like a panicked heart before returning to normal. Before Cara took two steps in, Ave greeted her with words and a wave, which she ignored. She did, however, notice that Kahlan hadn't looked up. Instead, the Confessor had her hands clasped on the table and stared across it, as if waiting on someone. Cara walked over, noticing the pack from the tailor sat opposite of Kahlan. Interesting. So interesting that Cara set the bucket of water directly in front of Kahlan and sat down. "There's no food here."

"You weren't here," Kahlan said simply, as if it explained everything and didn't confuse the Mord'Sith at all. She missed Cara's expression on account of abruptly leaving with the bucket.

Cara glared at the pack in front of her and pushed it to Kahlan's side of the table with a huff.

Barely a few minutes went by before Kahlan's casual return. She pushed the pack toward Cara as she sat. "You might want to put that in your room before we eat."

"It's yours."

Kahlan stared at her.

Cara rolled her eyes and shoved the pack back, her gaze focusing on a wall.

For a solid minute, Kahlan stared at her, waiting on an explanation that wouldn't come. She'd simply have to get it herself. Hesitantly, she opened the pack, removing the bundle from inside. She stared at it until an impatient grunt took her from her trance. Really, she was being silly. She undid the ties on the package and let out a small gasp. She reverently ran her fingers over her corset. It looked brand new and felt the perfect mix of soft and sturdy. Her eyes flicked up to Cara.

"Tailor's still doing your ridiculous Confessor dress," she said without looking at Kahlan.

It took Kahlan a moment to even think of something to say, and she nearly bristled at her dress being called ridiculous. Nearly. She just disregarded it as a Mord'Sith opinion. "How did Nala finish my corset but not the sleeve of my dress?"

Cara's fist hit the table and she finally looked at Kahlan. "The damned woman's making you another stupid dress!"

Kahlan's eyes widened and she dashed out.

Cara looked at the Confessor's corset and heaved a sigh. "You're not food."

"No, but this is." Ave set down a plate in front of her and nodded at her glare. "Looked like you could use that."

Cara grunted and took to her food. She was halfway through when Kahlan came back.

"I couldn't convince her to stop, but I managed to express that I wanted the old one, too."

Cara nodded sharply, but gave no other indication of hearing.

"Second or third plate?" She bit back a grin at the Mord'Sith's glare and opted to look for Ave, who happened to already be making his way over.

"Been waiting for you." He came straight to their table, smiling brightly, though it fell into a frown. "Off."

"Pardon?"

He pointed at Kahlan's corset and smiled at her flustered behavior while putting it on the floor. Ave left them both with food and told them to holler if they needed something. Kahlan promptly assumed Cara would take it literally. They ate in silence, though, that was only after Kahlan's failed attempts at conversation. By the time she'd come around to entertaining the idea that perhaps eating in the same building was a show of acceptance from the Mord'Sith, the blonde stood.

"Where are you going?"

Cara didn't even raise an eyebrow. She just stared at Kahlan long enough to blink once, as if figuring out whether or not the brunette _actually_ asked her that question. Then she left.

Her heart beat too quickly, and she walked faster. A hand dropped to an agiel and she gripped it, every muscle throughout her arm far too tense. The shrill screams of her agiel drew attention she was oblivious to. There was something. Not in the air, not visible, not tangible. And yet Cara felt something stirring, something coming.

Instinct compelled her, though she knew little of what it spoke to her. She just had to act.

Denna's pet raised his head at the sound of her hurried footsteps. Being gagged and tied to a tree did little to diminish his aura of calm, but alarm lit his dark eyes. Mord'Sith did not rush.

Instinct drew her agiel.

It screamed against his temple. He shook violently, screamed into his gag. Stopped.

Still, the feeling pervaded.

Cara retrieved his knife and freed him from his binds. She watched him slump, the knife twitching in her hand.

Still.

Instinct.

She dropped to a knee beside him and ripped open his shirt. Her head tilted for but a moment before she stopped questioning herself. Hesitation was the only mistake. The knife bit into his skin, blood welling around its tip, and it arced along the path her hand decided. Cara set the knife atop his stomach and started toward town again. Her urgent stride turned into a run.

"What do you mean?"

Cara slung her pack over her shoulder and huffed at the Confessor, though she could've been huffing from running all the way back to town as fast as possible. "I mean exactly as I said. We have to go. Now."

Kahlan followed her and watched Cara saddle a horse.

"Are you coming or not, Confessor?"

"What happened?"

"Move it or lose it, Confessor."

There was something wild in the Mord'Sith. Something prompting her urgency. Kahlan felt it radiating off the woman, and it put her on edge. She spoke quietly. "I'll get my dress."

Cara didn't acknowledge the other woman's departure; she was busy saddling another horse.

* * *

><p>A strange feeling had dwelt within Denna the whole day, a feeling not even training or sparring lessened. The moon hung in the sky as if trying to tell her something. She frowned. That was nonsense. But there was something. Perhaps… The blonde left the courtyard and walked the mostly empty corridors of the temple without her usual stride. No, rather, she walked like a woman possessed. Denna threw open the door to the library and went directly to a particular shelf. This was not the time for discretion, not that anyone would be around—except Berdine, who didn't matter just yet. She flipped open the book she desired without sitting and her intense stare settled on a page that had been blank yesterday.<p>

_Kilion found Cara. She's travelling with the Mother Confessor, though I don't know why. Haven't seen the Seeker. They left this godforsaken, nameless town before nightfall. I know you told me to follow Kilion, but I'm following them. I hope it pleases you, Mistress. I'll do whatever you wish. Mistress, I confess I don't know why Cara didn't slit Kilion's throat, but she cut him good. He'll have a "C" on his chest forever._

"That bitch."

"I see you've read the latest message."

Denna almost flinched. Almost. She shut the book and turned with a strained smile. "Berdine. I didn't hear you come in."

"I know."

"Shouldn't you be in bed?"

Berdine cocked her head. "Whose bed?"

"Does it matter?"

"Cara was always special."

Denna's eyebrow rose slightly.

Berdine ignored her, lightly taking a seat and resting her chin on a fist, staring at nothing. "A Mord'Sith and the Mother Confessor. Blood and purity."

The blonde stared at her curiously. "What was that?"

Sharp blue eyes found Denna's. "You're not telling Dahlia, I'd wager. Or at least not everything."

"I'm listening."

Berdine stood suddenly. "You listen to the wrong things."

Denna's eyes flicked down for a moment. "When did you notice the one book among thousands?"

Blue eyes calmed slightly, taking in the passing apology from Denna. "When it kept moving." She laughed at Denna's scowl, but quickly sobered. She took the journeybook from Denna's fingers and put it back on the shelf. "Can you feel it?"

Denna smiled, but in the way only the damned smile. "It begins."

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** And so it does. (I know nothing technically crazy happened, but Denna's right.) I'm rewatching the last season because I lost something in my writing that I'm finding again. Plus I kind of mostly forgot everything. But you forgive me and you'll put down that pitchfork when I update in a couple weeks to prove that I'm committed to this story.

I miss Cara and Kahlan stories.

Oh and it never occurred to me that my Kahlan apparently has a darker personality until someone mentioned it. I don't really think... well, yeah. She totally does.


	12. One Step Closer

**A/N:** I haven't had a good time. Obviously. I let it go too far and I actually wouldn't be better and here if it weren't for some of you. So thank you. I have a lot of catch-up to do writing-wise, and I'm sure you wouldn't mind seeing it happen. Thanks for being here, for enjoying this story, for your patience, and for those of you that maintain faith in my writing abilities.

There's almost a _hundred_ alerts and that just astounds me.

* * *

><p>A finger absently brushed back dark hair, but the tilt of his head made it fall forward again. He was too occupied to notice. He straightened. The smile wouldn't leave his face. "Grace."<p>

The Mord'Sith froze, still partially bent over. Her fingers twitched as if trying to remind her they were supposed to pick up Dahlia's knife, but that smooth, regal tone just _couldn't be_. "My Lord?"

Pleasure washed through him, and, once more, he ached to have his physical form. He knew she remembered their… sessions. Knew it from the tremor in her voice only he caused. "Come now, I haven't seen you in so long, Grace." To his satisfaction, she stiffened further at the sound of her name. The blonde Mord'Sith finally stood upright, facing him, head raised in a pride he'd love to shatter, over and over. "I have services for you to perform, dear Grace."

Her grip on Dahlia's knife brought little comfort. Hazel eyes flicked to Raina's sleeping form, flicked back to Darken.

"Now, now. It's just the two of us at the moment. Unless you'd rather have someone else occupy you?"

Still, she said nothing.

Anger and hatred twisted inside of him. He'd underestimated Dahlia, something he had thought impossible. Dahlia had some obsession with Cara, and always kept Grace close for some reason. So, of course, he'd expected Dahlia to control Grace as some stupid manner of holding onto Cara but he didn't think she'd have so much sway that Grace didn't answer him. He _owned_ her, owned _all_ of them.

Darken stepped closer, allowing green flame to follow in his footsteps.

She stepped backward.

He smiled. "There's nothing to fear. I come to you for your aid, so that I can return to you. Guide you. I'm certain that you've noticed the chaos, the _ruin_ in my absence." Darken paused, pleased to see the hesitation in her eyes. "I only request that you kill a general. General Fenn." He casually waved a hand, stepping back. "Look into it yourself, if you haven't heard. He facilitates the downfall of D'Hara."

Without any sort of gesture, Darken vanished.

The green tones of the Underworld welcomed him, and he paused, savoring his progress. The pieces were falling into place. One more task, and then he'd just have to wait. His smile faltered, and he stilled. He had yet to conceive a proper plan.

"Something wrong, Darken?"

The ever-strange press of the Keeper greeted him, and in that moment he found his resolve. He smiled. "Not at all. I'm simply preparing to visit my dear brother."

"The wonders of a son."

Darken frowned, staying there even as the Keeper's presence faded. Something was entirely different about the Keeper in that encounter. Something almost human. "Interesting," he murmured, rubbing his knuckles. After turning it over in his mind, he stirred himself. He had a brother to visit, after all. A long-awaited visit.

In but the blink of an eye, Darken found himself standing over the sleeping Seeker. He had company, and Darken wanted this to be particular to them, so he'd only pay this visit as a dream. A rather real dream. Darken's smile twisted, and he stared harder at the man in his slumber. How was it that he'd found the Seeker so instantly, so effortlessly? Perhaps it was their shared blood, the only bond possible between them. He shook himself. This disgrace to the Rahl bloodline did not deserve his thoughts.

"Brother."

And Richard awoke instantly—or so he believed. He jumped to his feet, hissing Darken's name, and reached for a sword that wasn't there.

"Looking for something, dear brother?" Though he still smiled, nonchalant, a sense of disquiet crept into him. He only saw undiluted, ugly hatred in Richard's eyes.

"I don't need a sword to kill you."

Darken's smile vanished. "You cannot kill the already dead."

"Then I'll come to the Underworld and _end_ you."

Darken stepped closer, raising his chin slightly. "Try it, dear brother. I'll open a rift just for you." He reigned himself in, calming the desire to crush the Seeker, who dared speak so boldly against him. Another smile. "But dear brother, you are for the Keeper."

In the midst of Richard opening his mouth to reply, Darken's hand burned on his chest, and he let out a strangled scream.

As he withdrew to the Underworld, Darken couldn't stop thinking about what he'd sensed during the marking, about the black hatred and madness staining his brother's heart.

* * *

><p>The hymns burned in her throat. Burned her blackened soul. This life of pretense had to end.<p>

"Sister Nicci."

She blinked. Dragged her gaze to some Sister whose name she couldn't bother to remember. She tilted her head a little, unable to stop the twitch of her lips. She could see the Sister's foolish smile through both their veils.

"Your devotion to the Creator is so admirable. Whenever you remain kneeling, I'm certain She speaks to you."

Nicci almost blasted the Sister with lightning right then and there. Almost. She simply rose and bowed her head for a polite moment. "You always offer kind words."

She left, fingers twitching until she clasped them in front of her as she wandered. Nicci heard the Prelate, and her magic roared inside of her so violently that dizziness struck her. An abrupt turn. A hand bracing against the wall again and again to aid her hurried steps. By the time Nicci reached her room, the dizziness was gone, but she found no peace. She stayed there the rest of the day, and paced well into the night.

They could attack now. Surprise the Prelate. With that old woman's Han, she could kill everyone in the palace. The Sisters of the Dark would have the Palace of the Prophets overnight.

One, fell swoop.

An end to this charade.

She could start it now, then get her fellow Sisters in Darkness. Walk right into the Prelate's room, feigning some desperate need and end it all right there. The old fool trusted her enough and was too vain to suspect anything.

Yes.

"Sister Nicci."

She stopped. She didn't know when the room acquired a green glow. She should know. She turned, finding the sole candle lit with green flame. She fell to her knees. "My Lord."

"You seem disturbed."

She didn't say anything. Didn't know how he could know… Unless one of her Sisters told Him. But why?

"Allow me to ease you, child. You know you can rely on me."

Truth. And yet some part of her was repulsed by it. Twisted, as if to say, "And when can there be Nicci, Nicci who relies on Nicci?" but she said no such thing. She said only one thing. "Yes."

"Your time comes. What is a few weeks compared to all of your time here?"

"A few weeks?"

He laughed, understanding her real question. "It is written."

She watched the flame return to its normal color as the Keeper's presence faded. "So let it be done."

* * *

><p>Berdine took measured steps, tense transfers of her weight. She was relaxed, but only in a troubled sense. Only as a Mord'Sith sensing something coming her way, only as a tactician awaiting an inevitable change in play. She could feel the tension in other Mord'Sith, but suspected they didn't know the cause of it.<p>

Just instinct.

Not even instinct stopped a fist from colliding with her jaw. She braced herself for the fall, making little of it. She sat up, opening and closing her mouth. Her jaw clicked. Good thing Cara wasn't around. Berdine really didn't want the lecture about paying attention and not living in her head. Of course, given the facts—not realizing she'd walked into the dining hall, getting punched in the face—she might've needed that lecture.

"Look at me, you little bitch."

The unmistakable sneer in that voice snapped the tension in Berdine like a bone.

"When I tell you to do something, you do it."

Berdine looked up in a way that was almost casual. Before she even spoke, she knew her voice was as cold as the hatred inside of her. "Elle."

The woman's face twisted, her features as harsh as her personality. Rather, her lack of one. "_Mistress_ Elle."

She rose, a slow, fluid motion made more intense by her stare. "Now, why would I call you such a thing when you're inferior to the blood on my boot?"

Elle made a terrible noise, the fire in her eyes as bright as the red of her hair. "I don't like when people play with my things. I especially don't like when some bitch proclaims she's better than me."

"'Proclaim' is a big word for you and I'll have you know that I do not play with shiny things."

A few laughs broke the tense silence, but Berdine only thought of where Elle got the idea that she'd said anything about the infernal woman.

Elle's fist came at Berdine's face with wicked quickness, barely evaded. But Berdine cursed herself as an agiel screamed into her ribs.

The older woman's speed was meant to distract, and damn if it hadn't been distracting.

A fist caught her jaw. Her legs were kicked from under her. The agiel followed her to the ground and she heard the woman whisper in her ear.

"I own Raina. Maybe I'd think about owning you if you weren't such a brat." She giggled, a strange, disturbing sound.

Berdine's hand locked onto Elle's wrist, holding the woman's agiel to her side. The confused look on Elle's face vanished with the press of an agiel under her chin. Elle blindly punched at Berdine and tried to yank her hand free from the brunette's vice-like grip. Berdine clenched her jaw, uncaring about Elle's blows. She drove the agiel against the woman's face and fell back, pulling Elle with her as she started thrashing, desperate to get away. Berdine's leg hooked around Elle.

"Let go, you bitch!"

Berdine didn't.

Elle grew wild.

Berdine didn't. She couldn't. Not if she wanted to stay conscious. She wrenched Elle's hand from her side and turned it viciously.

Elle convulsed under the violent caress of two agiels, then stopped.

Berdine pushed the woman's body off her, chest heaving. She knew the world wasn't spinning, but it definitely looked like it. Breathing was almost too much. She didn't dare touch her side. Any additional bursts of pain might knock her out, and that simply wouldn't do after sharing pain with Elle and proving she was stronger. All she wanted was to be anywhere else, alone. But something made her kneel beside Elle's body. She gave her the Breath of Life.

Elle screamed a weak, pathetic scream of rage.

Berdine punched her, grabbed her disheveled hair, slammed her face into the stone floor in a rather gentle manner for a Mord'Sith. "You don't even own yourself."

Elle's face hit the stone, over and over.

Berdine rolled the dead woman over so everyone could see the mutilated remains of her face. She stood, halfway looking at each Mord'Sith. They all had the same, basic expression. Except one.

Denna was smiling at her.

* * *

><p>Something hit Raina's shoulder and her agiel snapped out as her eyes opened. Dark eyes focused on the twitching muscle in Grace's face for a moment. She withdrew her agiel. "You shouldn't wake a Mord'Sith that way." In the raw, still-new light of the day, Raina saw the blonde stiffen, slight as it was. She crouched, idly twirling her agiel. She didn't smile at Grace's subtle recoil.<p>

"We have a mission."

Raina said nothing.

"We are to kill General Fenn."

Though nothing of her demeanor changed, Raina recognized the name.

"Say something." Under Raina's intense stare, Grace grew agitated and stood. "This is not an honor I have to share with you. Lord Rahl himself trusted me with this task."

That distinct, Mord'Sith bravado, wearing hatred like a coat during an endless winter.

Raina's agiel slammed into the side of Grace's knee. As the blonde fell, Raina rose, delivering a terrible uppercut that caught Grace in the soft spot beneath her chin. She crumpled backward gracelessly. Raina casually checked for a heartbeat. She slapped Grace's face a few times.

Coming back to consciousness, Grace made a strangled noise. Pain shined in her eyes as she attempted to swallow. She didn't even try speaking.

Raina forced Grace to look at her. "No."

* * *

><p>Kahlan was anything but surprised when Cara rose from the fire as if she heard something. She walked away from camp. Patrolling. It had been the one word Kahlan got out of her since they left the first town. Once. For the last three nights, the Mord'Sith opted to leave and, naturally, Kahlan asked where she was going. After that first night where Cara said "Patrolling,"—as if it were the most obvious thing—and the next two where her face indicated she thought little of Kahlan's intelligence, the Confessor simply refused to ask tonight. She had to save her energy anyway. Kahlan didn't even want to think about how much ground they'd covered, travelling well into the night and starting again before dawn. They made one stop, only long enough to change horses. Their supplies were running low and Kahlan was certain that their conditions would decline soon, yet she wasn't worried. The Mord'Sith had become more restless than yesterday. Kahlan figured they were close to Richard.<p>

Strange how that made her feel as though there were vipers in her stomach.

Cara returned to sit and stare at the fire.

The night was uneventful.

Around noon, Cara stopped just outside of a small town. "This town. The tavern."

Kahlan stared at her. "How can you be so sure?"

A muscle in Cara's face twitched. "A Mord'Sith recognizes this kind of hatred." She dismounted.

Kahlan followed suit, dismissing the Mord'Sith's eerie precision. Richard didn't hate anyone. He was too caring of a man—unless he truly thought Kahlan was dead because of that wizard. Certainly a Mord'Sith would recognize hatred bred from the death of a loved one.

"Are you ready or would you like to take a nap?"

She focused on Cara again. Her companion was tense, staring into town. "I'm ready to form a plan instead of just run in there like crazed murderers." Kahlan ignored the Mord'Sith's stiffness, ignored the pit in her own stomach. It had been uncalled for. She couldn't worry about it now. She settled into thinking. It wasn't long before she felt eyes on her. "I take it you have a plan."

Cara slowly developed a smirk.

After a moment, Kahlan narrowed her eyes. "I want it to be known that I am against this."

"This is going to be fun."

Despite her best efforts, Kahlan soon stepped into town. She only barely stopped muttering about "Stubborn Mord'Sith" before a man approached her.

"Mother Confessor! What a pl—are you alright?"

She followed his eyes to the pink stain on her white sleeve. "Yes, thank you. I just wanted to stop and rest at the tavern."

He frowned. "If you're sure." He walked away.

Kahlan didn't bother with him. No one else stopped her. She took a deep breath before entering the tavern.

"Hello!"

She smiled tentatively at the barkeeper. It was strangely empty. He didn't have reason to stand right behind the bar and his smile was too big. "Slow day?"

He nodded. "Just enjoying the peace in my place."

It didn't feel exactly like a lie, but it didn't feel exactly right either. "What would you recommend?"

"What?"

"What would you recommend I drink?"

His mouth opened somewhat stupidly and the sound of someone bursting in removed the need for him to say anything.

Cara carelessly dragged a man's body in.

Kahlan heard the ring of metal and whipped around, eyes turning black.

When his eyes returned to their original color, he dropped the dagger. "Command me, Confessor."

Instead, she turned around. "You couldn't come in a minute later?"

Cara crossed her arms. "I didn't think alarming people," she paused to kick the man at her feet, "would be helpful. It's not my fault you're slow."

Kahlan recognized him, the man that spoke to her before she reached the tavern. He was still breathing. She sighed.

"And clumsy."

"I am not clumsy!"

"I'm certain the log and the bucket agree with you."

Kahlan glared before turning back to the man. "Where's… What's his name?"

"Elthier, Ely, Elson—"

"_Elthier_?"

"Don't look at me like that. You know wizards have stupid names."

"Elysan?"

"Yes," the women said at once.

He almost ran to the side of the bar and pushed against it, grunting loudly. It gave and slid a few feet, revealing a set of stairs.

Kahlan heard the Mord'Sith mutter something like "Of course," but she just asked the man about what was waiting for them.

"Elysan's got a few men with him and the Seeker and the old wizard. Anything else, Mistress? Let me help you. Protect you."

"No. Stay here." She looked to Cara, who nodded once. She stopped on the first step. "What happened to the owner of the tavern?"

"I killed him and told everyone I bought it and he left."

Cara snorted. She probably thought one or both parties to be stupid. Kahlan shook her head and descended.

If crazed wizards with malicious intentions had meetings, Kahlan wanted to know when and where because dank, underground things or caves couldn't be the only options for setting up evil plans. Darken Rahl was dead, but at least he didn't work out of a hole fit for rats.

After a few minutes and minor musings on ascending and descending so many steps, Kahlan reached a door. She pushed it open and carelessly walked inside. "Another cavern, I see." She retained her composure, heedless of the numerous eyes on her.

Elysan briefly help up a hand even though none of his men moved. He smiled. "A little hard to kill, are we? I admit, I'm almost impressed. Almost." He sighed, as if acknowledging a long-hidden burden. "There are some things we must do ourselves."

Kahlan felt something violent in her as Elysan raised his hand, something different from the Con Dar.

Too many things happened far too quickly for her to embrace that feeling.

Zedd shouted, throwing what could've been a stone, or some other small object. Elysan howled as smoke engulfed him. Something knocked Kahlan aside as lightning shot toward Zedd, but it hit some barrier and rocketed back toward the young wizard. His angry howl gave way to agony.

The smoke had yet to clear and the stench of burned flesh was far too present when Kahlan looked up at Cara, still looking for threats. "You have horrible timing!"

"Kahlan!"

"I have perfect timing, Confessor."

Elysan's thugs, intent on fleeing, didn't fight the Seeker as he rushed to Kahlan's side.

Cara hurriedly left the Confessor's side, sparing Richard Rahl not a single glance. Elysan likely kept the Rada'Han key on his person. Kahlan's voice made her turn, but the woman's words were drowned by a pained shout in a strange language. As the cavern shook, Elysan laughed violently, and coughed, and fell silent. Fragments of the ceiling fell.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** These characters are so interesting.


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